Changing History: Second Chances
by fogisbeautiful
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance. Sometimes, it makes all the difference in the world. Part Three of the Changing History saga, chronicling the adventures of Melody Calenhiril during The Return of the King.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright, so Part Three! I'm excited, are you excited? If you aren't than you should be. Melomir continues into The Return of the King. If you're reading this note and wondering "Melomir? What the heck is a Melomir?" please stop now and read Parts One and Two before continuing. And I'd like to go ahead and give a nice hearty shout-out to JRR Tolkien and Peter Jackson and anyone else who might have been somehow involved in the making of the epicness that is Lord of the Rings and might want to sue me later. You guys are the best and none of this would be possible without you. And if you still plan on suing, knock yourselves out, I've got nothing to give you.

Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance. Sometimes it makes all the difference in the world.

_**Changing History: Second Chances**_

**Chapter 1**

There were so many. Faramir found himself thrown from one battle to the next, desperately trying to hold the city of Osgiliath against the onslaught of orcs from Mordor. But their numbers were great and his men were tired. They had been fighting too long. He could feel hope fading quickly. But he kept thinking, hoping, praying, _"Help will come. We must hold and help will come."_

The sun rose higher in the sky, but it was weak, covered by a growing darkness that boiled out of the east. The orcs relished in the dim light and pressed on further, pushing back the Ithilien Rangers bit by bit. Faramir fought until he was overwhelmed and then retreated. He ran toward a small alcove where he hoped to funnel the orcs and force them to face him one at a time. But when he passed through the stone archway, he saw that the alcove was already occupied.

"Faramir!" Madril shouted in warning.

At the last moment, Faramir threw himself to the side. The small knot of archers made quick work of the group of orcs that were pursuing him and finally the men were given a moment to breathe and assess their situation. Faramir knew that it was grim.

"We can't hold them." Madril said, "The city is lost."

Faramir knew. He couldn't win this battle. They were too few. They were finished.

And then he heard the horn sound.

Mel's heart pounded in her chest, matching her horse's frantic gallop stride for stride as she and Boromir raced toward Osgiliath. Boromir let out three more short blasts on his horn and then drew his sword. Mel did the same. And then she realized she had absolutely no experience fighting from horseback. She felt extremely unstable on the back of her running mount. But she only had a moment to consider the fact that this might be a serious problem before they were galloping through the city streets.

Their running horses caught a few orcs by surprise and they were quickly trampled underfoot. But it only took a few moments for the others to prepare and face the new threat. Boromir leaped into the fray with abandon, hacking away at orc after orc, using the height the horse provided him as an advantage. Mel went to work, striking clumsily at any foul, black thing that came within arm's reach. At the same time she took a moment to search for any trees in the immediate vicinity that might be some kind of help. But all she found were charred remains and sickened shrubs. Her heart ached for them, but she didn't have the time or the strength to help them right now. She was too worried about keeping herself and Boromir alive.

And he was doing almost nothing to help her out. He plunged his horse deeper into the thickening troops of orcs as the pile of dead grew all around them. Mel glanced around. Where was Faramir? Where were the Ithilien Rangers? Had they waited too long? Had the men already abandoned the city? Had they just walked into a death trap?

Mel was starting to think that maybe now would be a good time to bring up the idea of retreat, when something whistled by her head. She turned in time to see an orc go down with an arrow in his eye.

"For Gondor! For the White Tower!" Someone cried.

More orcs fell around them and suddenly they were surrounded by men in armor, fighting furiously toward them. The orcs fell fast, but where one fell, two more seemed to take it's place. And Mel could see that their own side was not without casualties. The ground was littered with pieces of armor and the bodies of men. And she knew that these men were tired. They had been fighting for days, some for weeks, but she could hardly tell watching them now. They rallied around the two horses, fighting valiantly. But Mel could still see that they were just postponing the inevitable.

And then her horse went down. It was sudden. An orc caught the two front legs of her mount and cut them out from under her. The scream of the horse echoed with her own screams as she just managed to kick out of her stirrups and throw herself from the saddle before the poor creature fell. She scrambled to her feet, sword still in hand, and just missed being decapitated. She slit the throat of the attacking orc as payback and suddenly she was lost in a sea of black and silver, dark skin and metal clashing together. She could still see Boromir on his horse, but he was on the other side of the skirmish. He hadn't even noticed that she was down yet.

She took one step toward him and she had to throw up her sword and gut another orc. They were everywhere. Every step she took was a battle and the second she lifted her eyes to find Boromir again, another orc took a swing at her. She had managed three steps, when she heard a growl behind her. She whirled around, but she was too late. The orc was right behind her, sword in his hands pulled back to strike, an ugly smile on his dirty face. Mel had enough time to realize she was about to die. And then a sword came from behind the orc and took his head right off. Blood gushed everywhere, covering Mel and she didn't even care. She was just thrilled she was still breathing.

Then the man who had saved her caught her eye. Sharp nose, shoulder length dark hair, stone gray eyes... Familiar stone gray eyes...

It was Faramir.

Mel knew it was Faramir the way she knew that the earth was round. She just knew. The eyes were the biggest tell. They were Boromir's eyes set in a different face. Different, yet slightly the same as only siblings can be. For a fraction of a second they just stared at each other, Faramir looking as shocked to see her as she felt to see him. And then Boromir called her name.

"Melody!" He sounded panicked. Mel glanced over her shoulder and saw him frantically searching the courtyard. The group of orcs had been chased out, probably on their way to get reinforcements. She turned back to Faramir and smiled.

"Thanks!" she said, before running after Boromir.

He saw her coming and jumped from his horse to meet her, grabbing her arms, "I told you to stay with me! What part of that was unclear?"

"Well, I'm sorry, next time an orc goes to cut my horse's legs out from under me, I'll make sure he has your permission first."

Boromir took a deep breath and let go of her arms, "I don't have time for this. We're going to use the southern and eastern exits to drive the orcs out of the city. We need to mobilize our forces so we can strike with precision. I need to find Faramir."

At first, Mel couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. It didn't make sense. What was he talking about, drive out the orcs? The orcs were embedded in this city like a really bad case of termites. And when she looked around her, the men she saw were exhausted. Sure their eyes were bright with adrenaline, but they were all fixing to crash hard. And Boromir was talking about fighting?

"Boromir," she said, gently, quietly, so no one else would hear, "I told you, the city's gone. You can't save it. Let's just get these guys..."

But Boromir whirled on her and his eyes flashed, "I have saved this city from the forces of Mordor many times before. I will not allow it to fall now!"

"Brother," They both turned. Faramir had come up behind them and neither had noticed, "Can you not see the men are weary? We have fought for many days and nights to keep this city. Perhaps we should pull back while we have strength left and use our men to defend Minas Tirith."

"If we hold Osgiliath, we hold the road to Minas Tirith. There will be no need to defend the White Tower if no enemy is able to cross the river and reach it's gates!"

"But, Boromir," Mel tried again, but he cut her off with a burning glare.

"I will not abandon this city! We will hold!" Then Boromir stormed off. Mel had seen that look before and it frightened her. There was no talking Boromir out of it. He was determined. Mel turned to Faramir.

"You can sound the retreat." she said, an edge of desperation creeping into her voice.

Faramir shook his head, "Boromir is the Captain of the White Tower, the men listen to him."

"Faramir, these are YOUR men, they'll listen to you! You're the one who's been fighting with them all this time, you're the one who knows how tired they are, you're the one they've shared stories with around campfires. They know you. All you have to do is give the order."

Faramir glanced up at Boromir's retreating back, "He will never forgive me."

Mel rolled her eyes, "He's forgiven me for worse and I'm not even family."

Faramir turned and stared at her, "Who are you?"

Mel smiled, "I'll tell you once we're safe and sound behind the gates of Minas Tirith." she put a hand on his arm, "Please, Faramir, I know you don't know me, but I can't lose him again."

Suddenly there was a loud screech above them and Mel felt a cold, dripping dread cover her whole body. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. Slowly, she pulled her eyes skyward. A giant creature, like a cross between a dragon and an eel, flapped it's wings and rose above them, turning and swooping down toward the courtyard. Everything had stopped at the sound of that horrible screech, but as the thing lurched toward them, all the men scattered. Faramir grabbed Mel's arm and dragged her with him behind a column just as the thing made a grab for the floor. Several men were caught in it's claws and tossed aside like rag dolls to lie crumpled on the stones. Mel's mind worked it's way around her paralyzing terror toward her first coherent thought of the last five minutes.

_Nazgul._

The winged Nazgul took to the sky and slowly curved around, coming back for a second pass. Faramir yanked her from behind the pillar and started dragging her behind him, yelling as he went.

"Fall back! Fall back to Minas Tirith! Retreat!"

Like a rock dropped in a still pond, men heard the call and echoed it out to their friends, who in turn called it out to their friends until the calls of retreat filled the air around them. Everyone came out of hiding and ran for the gates of the city. Mel finally pulled her mind out of the fear and tried to yank her arm out of Faramir's grip.

"I have to find Boromir!" she said.

"He will be with us. Trust me, my brother is stubborn and overconfident, but even he is not so foolish as to take on the Nazgul alone." Faramir said.

As much as she tried to believe him, Mel had seen Boromir do too many stubborn, overconfident and stupid things to just take his word for it, even if it was his brother. She desperately searched the faces of the retreating soldiers, trying to catch a glimpse of Boromir in the pandemonium that surged around her. But there was no sign of him. They reached the gates of the city and Faramir grabbed the reins of a horse and handed them to her.

"I'm not leaving without him." Mel said as she took the reins.

"Neither am I." Faramir said, "If he hasn't reached the gates in five minutes, we'll both go back for him, I promise." Then he turned away from her and began directing his men to horses, making sure everyone had a way to escape the city, and overseeing the opening of the gates.

Mel mounted up and continued to search for Boromir. He still had his horse so if he was coming, he should be easy to spot. Where was he? She was just about to go back when Faramir pulled his horse up beside her. The men were mounted and beginning the mad dash toward Minas Tirith.

"Have you seen him?" He asked.

Mel shook her head. There was another screech and Mel could hear the slow beating of leathery wings. She shivered and drew her sword. She didn't know what she would do with it, but she felt a little better with it in her hand. She shouldn't have left him. She should have stayed with him. Where was he? If they survived this, she was gonna kill him!

"Ride with the others," Faramir said, drawing his own sword, "I'm going back."

"Oh no you're not!" Mel said, "You ride with the others and I'll go back!"

Faramir looked at her like she had two heads, "My lady, I cannot allow..."

But Mel was ignoring him. The second he'd started the 'My lady' crap, she'd tuned him out. And she could have sworn she heard galloping hooves coming toward them. She turned back to the courtyard. Finally, Boromir burst into view, riding as fast as he could toward the gates. Mel's heart leaped.

"Run!" Boromir yelled.

Mel and Faramir wheeled their horses and the three of them flew out of the gates of Osgiliath and raced across the open fields west for Minas Tirith. Mel heard more blood curdling screeches behind them, but she didn't even look up. She didn't need to see what was chasing them, she already knew. Nazgul, three of them, hurtled toward them across the blackening sky. Mel kept her eyes in front of her, her heart pounding in her chest, waiting for one of those creatures to drop from the sky, scoop her up, and let her fall to her death. Her whole body was numb with terror. All she could think about was reaching that gleaming bit of white in the distance. But it seemed so far away.

Then the first Nazgul attacked in front of them. The creature tore through the men fleeing in front of them, scattering them in all directions. The men cried out in terror and the horses screamed in pain as claws ripped through them all. Another Nazgul flew so close over their heads that Mel ducked. The creature grabbed two horses and then let them plunge to the earth to lie crumpled and lifeless. Mel rode on, trying not to see the bodies of the men that lay in the field, trying not to lose it. The Nazgul dropped from the sky again, more screams, more broken bodies. And still they rode on, helpless against the attack.

And suddenly, Mel had another coherent thought. _Gandalf, where are you?_

As if in answer, a bright white light cut across the sky and struck the Nazgul like a physical blow. The black creatures reeled back from the light, squealing as if in pain, flapping their giant wings in retreat. Mel turned and saw a speck of white riding toward them. She grinned.

"Gandalf!" she yelled, so happy to see him that she didn't even consider that he couldn't possibly hear her. Both Boromir and Faramir glanced at her, but she barely even noticed. She kicked her horse and rode hard to try to catch up with the others. The brothers followed in her wake.

With the immediate fear of being chased now gone, the other men had slowed their retreat down to a brisk canter and the three who lagged behind soon caught up to the rest. Mel tried to maneuver her way to the front, but that proved more difficult than she would have thought. She had barely managed to reach the middle of the pack when she looked up and momentarily forgot what she was doing.

Minas Tirith was quite a bit bigger than she had originally anticipated and much more formidable. The circular walls that made up the many levels of the city seemed carved out of the very mountainside, the city itself jutting out into the surrounding fields with all the authority of a king staking claim to his kingdom. Mel could hear tree life in her head, gentle murmurings, intelligent and sophisticated, much like the trees in Rivendell and Lothlorien. This was a place of knowledge and wisdom. Or at least it had been once. War changed everything.

Mel found herself craning her neck to take in everything she saw, even as she passed within the gates of the city and the men congregated in the courtyard of the first level. It was Boromir's voice that pulled her back to the present.

"Why didn't you tell me about the Nazgul?" he demanded.

She glared at him, "What difference would it have made?"

"It might have made all the difference!"

"You're the one who didn't stick to the plan!" Mel shot back, "We were supposed to get in, look around, and get out, not stick around and try to play heroes!"

"I could have saved that city. I just needed more time!"

"In case you hadn't noticed, time was not something we had a lot of. I told you going there was a bad idea!"

"When did you become an expert in military strategy?"

"I'm not saying I'm an expert."

A new voice broke into their argument, "I believe I am an expert."

They both turned and stared at Faramir. He looked exhausted, more than Mel had noticed before.

"I may not have your skill with weapons, or be a master of men, Boromir, but I am most certainly an expert in strategy. The lady is right. The city was lost before you even arrived, Nazgul or no. If it had been more than just the two of you riding to our rescue we might have stood a chance, but look around you. These men are exhausted. You would have led them all to their deaths."

Maybe he just needed to hear it from his brother, but Boromir's face softened and he sighed, rubbing his face, "You are right, Faramir. You are the strategist. I have always deferred to your wisdom in such situations. I am too rash, I suppose. I see hope where clearly hope has failed."

"Not all hope has failed." Faramir said, suddenly grinning, "You are alive. Father will be overjoyed to hear it."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a small voice, calling out over the noise of the soldiers.

"Mel!"

Mel turned her head and searched the crowd. She'd know that voice anywhere. Finally, she spotted a bright white horse making it's way toward them and two little hands waving frantically in the air. Mel smiled and pushed her way toward Gandalf and Pippin.

The hobbit was practically bouncing with excitement, "Mel, I knew you'd be here, I just knew it! Everyone was worried sick about you, but I told them that as soon as we got here I knew you'd turn up and here you are too! I'm awfully glad to see you, Mel, really I am, to tell you the truth I was a little worried myself, but it's alright now isn't it?"

Mel reached out and ruffled his hair, "I told you everything would be alright, Pip. Doesn't anyone ever listen to me?"

"So, Melody Calenhiril, still alive I see."

Mel looked up and smiled at the wizard, "I'm glad to see you too, Gandalf. You have no idea how glad."

Gandalf smiled at her and Mel realized something odd. He looked younger. Despite the white hair and beard, there was an energy around him that he hadn't had as Gandalf the Grey. He seemed less like an old man and more like an ageless entity.

"I like your new look. White's your color." she said.

Gandalf glanced behind her and his face melted into a carefully guarded expression, "So you have truly rewritten the song." he murmured.

Mel looked behind her and she saw Boromir and Faramir making their way toward them. She looked back at Gandalf, "I was given a choice. I chose life."

Gandalf nodded, but his eyes stayed on Boromir, "I know of your choices. But life is not always an option." He finally looked at her again and something in his eyes told her that he knew everything. He knew about Mandos and the ultimatum, a life for a life. He knew that she was going to have to let someone die.

"Mithrandir!" Faramir's voice rang out across the courtyard, "They broke our defenses. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of orcs are crossing the river."

"It is as Lord Denethor predicted!" A voice cried out, "Long has he foreseen this doom."

Gandalf glared, "Foreseen and done nothing!"

He turned his horse to better face Faramir, revealing Pippin to him for the first time. Mel watched as Faramir's eyes widened in surprise. But Pip only had eyes for his brother.

"Boromir!" he cried.

Boromir grinned and ruffled his hair, "Hello there, Master Peregrin, what are you doing in my city? And where is your faithful companion, Meriadoc? Getting into trouble I imagine, the two of you will bring Minas Tirith tumbling down from the inside if left to your own devices for long."

Pippin's face fell, "Merry... We left Merry with the others in Rohan."

"Rohan, you say! Why you've been quite the traveler of late haven't you?"

Gandalf's eyes were fixed on Faramir, "This is not the first halfling to have crossed your path." he said.

Boromir turned and stared at Faramir. The younger brother glanced at him and then dropped his eyes, as if he were embarrassed.

"Faramir?" Boromir said. Then he looked at Mel, his eyes asking her the question he obviously wanted to ask his brother.

Pippin spoke up first, his face shining, "You've seen Frodo and Sam!" he exclaimed.

Faramir nodded, once again glancing at his brother. Boromir just sat in shock, staring at him.

"Where? When?" Gandalf asked, his face awash with relief.

"In Ithilien, not two days ago." Faramir met the wizard's eyes, "Gandalf, they were taking the road to the Morgul Vale."

Gandalf's face fell, "And then the pass of Cirith Ungol."

Mel felt eyes burning into her. She looked up and Boromir was staring at her. He was angry. But he also looked hurt. Mel stared back at him, trying to ask him with her eyes what was wrong.

"Faramir," Gandalf said, an edge of panic in his voice, "Tell me everything."

A/N: Yay! Chapter One was super long! I'm so happy with this thing so far, it's going to be epic! Make sure you review and tell me what you think. Did I get Faramir right? I think I did, but I'd like to know if you think I could do better. Thanks and stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, once again thanks for the awesome response! You guys continue to amaze me with your undying love and support. And I took what a few of you said to heart and as a result I went back and rewrote Mel's interaction with Gandalf in Chapter 1. Sorry about that, but after I reread it, I realized that I might have gone just a tad bit Mary-Sueish on you guys for a second and I wanted to correct it as soon as possible. Hope you like Chapter 2!

**Chapter 2**

Mel tried to at least pretend to listen as Faramir told the others about his encounter with Frodo and the Ring, but she kept glancing at Boromir. She couldn't get that last look he'd given her out of her mind. What had she screwed up this time? How had she hurt him now? It seemed like every time she turned around she was doing something wrong and having to fix it, only to find out that she'd done something else wrong in the process. But she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it could be this time.

Just as Faramir was telling them of Frodo's escape from Osgiliath, a young Gondorian soldier ran up to them, "Lord Faramir, Lord Boromir! Lord Denethor wishes to see you immediately. He said to bring your companion as well." The young man glanced at Mel, so she assumed he meant her. Her stomach tied itself into a knot. Denethor had requested her presence. Specifically. She could feel the blood drain from her face. She swallowed and tried to look unconcerned, but she caught Pippin looking at her curiously. She smiled at him, but she knew it was a weak smile.

Boromir nodded to the soldier, "Tell him we will join him shortly."

The young man bowed and ran off again. Gandalf turned Shadowfax to the side.

"We will leave you to your business for now," Gandalf said, putting a hand on Pippin's shoulder when he looked like he might protest, "But later, we will have much to discuss." He gave Mel a very deliberate look before he turned and trotted down an alleyway. Pippin turned and waved at her. Mel waved back, but it felt half-hearted. She would have loved to go with them. Where ever they were going had to be better than where she was going.

"So he did survive." Boromir murmured.

Mel shrugged, "Well, technically he died and came back, but yeah." She glanced at him, "I told you he was alive. Didn't you believe me?"

Boromir looked at her with carefully hidden eyes, "Of course, I believed you. You have never lied to me."

"I am afraid I'm confused and my brother's manners seem to have deteriorated in his absence." Faramir said, breaking Mel's eye contact with Boromir, "You are Lady Melody? Or should I call you Mel as the halflings do?"

Mel smiled at Faramir, "Just Mel is fine."

Faramir smiled and placed a hand over his heart, bowing toward her, "Than it is certainly an honor to meet you, Mel. Your little friends spoke well of you."

Mel's mood brightened considerably, "They told you about me?"

"I believe Samwise said that no braver lady had ever lived, in his opinion." Faramir's eyes darted to his brother for a brief moment, "It takes courage to stand up to those you care about."

Mel dropped her eyes, "I'm definitely not the bravest woman who ever lived, I promise."

"Are you both quite finished?" Boromir interrupted, his tone short, "Father demands an audience, I don't think it would be wise to keep him waiting."

Without pausing for a reply, Boromir turned his horse and started up the main road, leaving Mel and Faramir to catch up. They began weaving their way through the streets of Minas Tirith. As they passed through the gates of the different city levels, Mel was greeted by trees that seemed to stand guard at every gate in pairs. She smiled and silently returned their formal greetings as discreetly as she could. No need to advertise that she was talking to trees.

After several minutes of silence, Faramir finally said, "Boromir, you can't possibly expect to present our friend Mel to the Steward of Gondor looking like this." He gestured to her face and Mel looked at him, confused. She reached up and touched her cheek and her fingers came away sticky and black. She was covered in orc blood. She grimaced. She must look hideous! Faramir smiled kindly and pulled out a large white handkerchief.

"Here," he said, offering it to her, "Use this."

"Oh God no, it would ruin it!" Mel said, but Faramir pressed it into her hand.

"Keep it, I have more."

Mel sighed and smiled, "Thanks."

Boromir didn't even turn around. Mel watched his rigid back as she tried to wipe the gunk off her face. What had she done to deserve the cold shoulder?

"Where do you hail from originally, Mel? You fight like an elf, but you are clearly no elf maiden."

Mel turned her eyes back to Faramir, but she was distracted and had to pull herself together to answer. "Uh, Rivendell, I'm from Rivendell."

"So you have never seen our city?"

Mel shook her head, "Nope, I've never been to Gondor in my life." At least that much was true.

Faramir tilted his head to the side, "Your accent puzzles me. I don't believe I've ever heard a dialect quite like it."

"Well, I'm pretty unique." Mel said, glancing at Boromir's back. But he didn't even acknowledge that they were talking. Looked like Mel was fielding questions on her own today.

"You didn't grow up in Imladris." Faramir said. He wasn't asking, he knew.

Mel decided to go with the short answer, "That's right, I didn't."

Faramir looked at her, obviously waiting for her to elaborate. She just smiled at him and then turned to face front again. She could see him staring at her out of the corner of her eye before he shook his head and faced front as well. Crisis averted for now. Mel resisted the urge to sigh with relief.

They finally reached a large wooden gate, larger than any of the others before it, set into elaborately carved stone. They dismounted and guards materialized around them and led their horses away. Then the gates swung open and Mel was given her first glimpse of the Citadel. The sun shining on the white walls almost blinded her. She followed the two brothers' confident strides, taking in as much of the bright courtyard as possible. That was why she didn't see the tree until they were almost right in front of it. But when she did see it, she couldn't help but stop and stare.

The stark white branches reached up like they would pierce the sky. The trunk twisted and bent like it had been caught in a fierce wind too long as it grew up. And Mel heard absolutely nothing from it. The White Tree of Gondor was silent.

She took two steps toward it before she was stopped by a guard's raised hand. He was dressed all in black with a helmet in the shape of an eagle and he stared down at her with cold unfeeling eyes.

"Let her pass." Mel turned toward the voice behind her. It was Boromir. He was staring at her, but his eyes were carefully guarded, "On my honor she means no harm. Let her pass."

The guard hesitated, his eyes shifting from Mel to Boromir and back. But he finally stepped aside. Mel walked up to the tree and looked up into it's branches, waiting for some acknowledgment of her presence, some sign that it knew she was there. But there was nothing. Slowly, she reached out and pressed her palm to the twisted white bark. She closed her eyes and dug deep, the way she had searched out the tree on the banks of the Watcher's lake. But all she could see was darkness. There was nothing there.

"Can you save it?" Boromir's voice was close by her ear.

She sighed and opened her eyes, "There's nothing to save." she whispered.

"You saved the other by the lake."

"That tree was sick. There's nothing left here, Boromir. It's dead." She turned and looked at him, "I would save it if I could."

He stared down at her for a moment, studying her face, "Why didn't you tell me?" He said, finally.

"Tell you what?"

"That the Ring would cross my brother's path."

Mel stared at him, surprised, "I... I didn't think it mattered, I guess. It never really came up."

Boromir dropped his eyes, "Faramir is the stronger man. I have always known this in my heart. But my father has always placed me before him. As the eldest I am the one who is supposed to be the strongest. I am the one that Gondor must rely on to defend her from evil. How can I do that when I can't even defend myself? My younger brother would rule better than..."

Suddenly, Boromir looked up at her, his eyes filled with the shock of a revelation that had been a long time coming.

"By the Valar," He whispered, "If I had died... If you hadn't come... Faramir..."

Mel didn't know what to say, so she just nodded.

Boromir passed a hand over his eyes, "Of course, I've been such a fool."

"Father is waiting." Faramir said. He was standing outside of the grass circle that contained the tree. Boromir glanced at his brother and then looked intently into Mel's eyes.

"Does he rule with honor?"

Mel smiled, "Of course. He's your brother."

Boromir smiled, "And what of me? Do you think I will rule with honor?"

"That's up to you." Mel said, "But everyone deserves a second chance. I wish you would stop questioning yours long enough to live it."

Boromir dropped his eyes and took her hand gently, "Perhaps. But I fear these doubts will always haunt my thoughts."

"Boromir."

Mel jumped and Boromir dropped her hand, "Of course, Faramir, we're coming."

Mel followed him out of the green circle to join Faramir on the path. She hung back as the brothers mounted the wide steps. She was afraid. She wanted Boromir's hand in hers again. She wanted to know he would be there for her. But she realized she was being silly and selfish. This had nothing to do with her. This had to do with family. She was an observer now, nothing more. She took a deep, silent breath and followed them into the throne room.

The room was long and unusually dark after the blinding brilliance outside. It took Mel's eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. She made sure to keep herself behind the brothers, but not so far behind as to draw attention. She wanted to keep attention off herself for as long as possible, at least until she got a feel for what she was dealing with. What would be Denethor's reaction? Anger? Shock? Disbelief?

She didn't have to wait long for an answer. Before they had crossed half the length of the room, Mel saw a figure in long, black robes leap from the black Steward's chair and come running toward them, arms flung wide. Mel could see it was an older man and she didn't need three guesses to figure out who it was. When he reached them, Denethor immediately threw his arms around Boromir's neck.

"My son, my son." he said, over and over again, as if trying to convince himself of the reality of Boromir's existence, "My son, my son."

Mel hung back while Boromir hugged his father, just watching. Denethor wasn't anything like she had expected. She had pictured an ugly, sour looking man, helped in part by the actor that played him in the movies, but in reality he looked very much like his two sons. Older of course, with gray hair and lines on his face creased from worry, but in a way he really was very handsome. Mel could actually see how he might have convinced a woman to marry him in his youth.

Denethor had finally managed to pull himself away from Boromir, but he still stared into his son's face with a look of indescribable joy and relief.

"My son, my dear boy, how is this possible? I received news of your death and it tore my heart from me."

"Father, who brought you such news? What did they tell you?" Boromir asked, his face lined with concern.

But Denethor simply waved it away, "It no longer matters now that I see you alive and well and safely home again. Hope lives in Gondor yet!"

He clasped Boromir's shoulders enthusiastically, his face bright and his eyes shining. Then he glanced behind his son, caught Mel's eye and held it. Immediately she felt a cold trickle of fear drip down her spine. The light in his eyes changed in the span of a millisecond. And it was a light she had seen before. It was a deadly, maddening light.

"Is this the one then?" Denethor asked, "Is this the woman that traveled with you all the way from Rivendell? The cause of the strange reports from the mountain posts?"

Denethor let go of Boromir and took a few steps toward her. Mel had to resist the urge to step back, to turn and run. He wasn't just walking. He stalked toward her like a cat, his eyes glowing with that familiar madness barely kept contained to his eyes. Mel doubted that anyone but her could see it.

Boromir turned around, smiling, "Yes, Father. This is the Lady Melody of Rivendell."

"Indeed?" Denethor said, taking more deliberate steps her way. Mel swallowed hard, but held her ground. She wanted to look at Boromir, to tell him with her eyes if she could what was happening, but she was afraid to look away from the Steward. "And to what does she owe her power, this witchcraft of the forest? A trinket from Rivendell perhaps? A tool of the Enemy turned to our purposes?"

He was right in front of her now. Mel's heart was pounding in her chest. She was terrified. Slowly, Denethor reached up and gently cupped her chin, lifting her face as if to see her better. She desperately wished for Boromir to put a stop to this. But it was not Boromir who saved her.

"The woman does not possess the Dark Lord's Ring, Father." Faramir said, materializing at her side, "By now the tool of the Enemy is far beyond our reach."

Denethor glared at his youngest son, his grip on Mel's chin tightening in his anger. "Do not speak of things you know nothing about!" he hissed.

"Father, she possesses a power all her own." Boromir said gently, coming to stand at his father's side, "The Dark Ring is gone from us, destined for the black pit from whence it came."

Denethor looked at his eldest son, his confusion clear on his face. Then he looked at Mel, his eyes piercing hers.

"Do they speak the truth, woman?" He turned her head sharply and examined her profile, "Have both my sons failed to bring me that which I asked?"

He pulled her head back so she was facing him again. She could see the anger burning in his eyes, but the madness had diminished. He believed his sons. He knew she didn't have the Ring he was after. He just wanted to hear her say it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Both of your sons have protected this country and it's people by sending away a power so evil that it would destroy us all. But they have also brought you someone who wants more than anything to help protect this city. You'll have to judge for yourself whether they've failed, Lord Denethor."

The Steward held her chin for another moment. Then he released her and stepped back, his face instantly transforming into something harmless and pleasant.

"She has a sharp tongue on her, Boromir," he said, "Be careful you don't get cut by it."

Boromir was instantly at her side, so close they were just a breath away from touching. But he was staring at his father.

Denethor smiled, "So you bring back a woman? I might not have known her to be of the fairer sex had I not been told tales of her existence. Perhaps Lady Melody would like to clean up and prepare for dinner while we discuss recent events. I would hear of your journey, Boromir. You have been away much longer than I had anticipated and I would imagine you have much to tell."

Boromir glanced at Mel and she got the feeling that the last thing he wanted to do right now was let her out of his sight. But the last thing Mel wanted to do was spend another second in Denethor's presence. A bath and clean clothes sounded like the closest thing to heaven on earth right now. So Mel smiled at Boromir and put a hand on his arm while she looked his father in the eye.

"I think I'd like that, thank you." she said.

Denethor's face brightened and he motioned toward one of the dark recesses of the hall. A girl in a plain cotton dress, obviously a servant, emerged and curtsied before the Steward.

"Show our guest to a spare chamber and draw her a bath. Then arrange for fittings and decent clothing. She is to be treated as an honored guest and anything that she requests is to be hers, understood?"

"Yes, my lord." The girl replied softly. Her eyes never left the floor and her honey colored hair hid most of her face.

Denethor then grinned at Mel as if everything were just as it should be, "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Melody. My son obviously holds you in high regard. I look forward to hearing his reasons for such devotion."

Mel smiled, but all she wanted was to get out of there. She bowed her head in acknowledgment of the Steward, then turned to follow the servant girl. But someone grabbed her elbow and she jumped, whirling around defensively. It was only Boromir.

"May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner this evening?"

His eyes searched hers intently and she realized that his asking was merely a formality. Even if she had wanted to say no he would be there anyway. He just had to ask her permission now that they were back in polite society. She smiled.

"Yes, of course." she said.

He relaxed a little and even managed a small smile before he released her arm. Mel turned and followed the servant back into the small dark alcove, through a hidden door and out of the throne room.

A/N: So, we have officially met Denethor. Thoughts anyone? I'm interested to hear opinions on my characters now that they are sort of back into the context of the original story. So much has changed, it's difficult to predict how they all might react, but I hope I've definitely tried to stay as true to character as I can. Stay tuned for Chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, I meant to post this chapter almost a week ago and I seriously forgot. Sorry guys! :)

**Chapter 3**

Mel was led silently through the halls of the Citadel. She was still trying to get over the creepy-crawlies that kept shivering down her arms and giving her goosebumps. Denethor's eyes were embedded in her brain, not because she'd thought she was in any serious danger, but because they were Boromir's eyes. That creeped her out more than anything. She had known that look in his eyes because she had seen it in his son's and it was giving her mondo flashbacks. She didn't know what Boromir would tell his father about her power, but she hoped he would be smart enough to leave out the fact that it was attached to a ring. She caught herself fingering the Yavannacor absently and forced her hands to her sides. She needed to draw as little attention to it as possible.

She was so deep in thought that when the servant girl stopped in front of her, Mel almost ran into her.

"You will stay here." the girl said quietly, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking the door in front of her, "It is reserved for traveling dignitaries. The Steward and his sons are only a few corridors away."

The girl opened the door and stepped back. Mel stepped inside and had to hold back a gasp. It was a fantastic room. A four poster bed stood to one side, made up in green silk and green gauzy curtains fluttered in a slight breeze. Light poured in from the large high windows that flanked each side of an open stone archway. Mel stepped forward and peeked outside. There was a small garden below her balcony featuring a simple stone fountain and a few benches along a gravel path. It was beautiful. She turned back to her room and saw that on the opposite wall next to the door there hung a huge tapestry. It depicted a garden much like the one outside her room, but much larger and more elaborate. And in the garden there was a woman with dark flowing hair and perfect pale skin with eyes greener than the grass and trees surrounding her. Other women, smaller, but just as perfectly formed danced about her feet, but the woman in the middle commanded the attention of the entire picture.

"The Valie, Yavanna."

Mel jumped and whirled toward the servant girl's timid voice. She was also staring at the tapestry, "This room was dedicated to her honor and those that serve her, many years ago." The girl looked at her, then quickly dropped her eyes again, "I will have a bath drawn for you in the other room, my lady. Do you require a change of clothes?"

Mel shook her head, "No, I have something in my bag."

The girl nodded then curtsied, "Then I will leave you and return with the seamstress."

"Thank you." Mel said.

The girl looked up at her like she was startled. Then she turned and hurried out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Mel sighed and threw her bag on the floor next to the bed. There was very little else in the huge room. A wardrobe stood opposite the king sized bed and two end tables stood on each side of the bed. Next to the wardrobe stood a small table with a pitcher and basin, but that was it. The floor was covered with a thick green rug that Mel guessed was supposed to imitate grass.

She dug out the plain cotton dress from Edoras and laid it across the bed. Next to the beautiful green sheets it looked even more plain, but it would have to do. She didn't have anything else. She got up and hung her green cloak in the empty wardrobe. Then she stood and admired it for a minute. It was the only thing she owned not marred by tears or stains. It was pristine, hanging in that closet like it belonged there. Not for the first time, she thought it had to be magic, some kind of Elven magic from Rivendell. She wouldn't have been surprised if Elladan himself hadn't done something to it. She smiled and shut the door.

She could already here water being poured behind a door across from the bed. Steam was already starting to seep out from underneath the door. She unstrapped her sword and leaned it carefully next to the wardrobe. She didn't really feel comfortable without it anymore. She wondered if that should concern her. But there was no way she was taking it into the bath with her. Besides if someone attacked her while she was in there, naked, she doubted she would be in a state of mind to think about using it.

She grabbed her cotton dress and opened the little side door. A small room lay beyond with not much more than a tub of water in it. A different servant girl looked up from testing the water, then stood and curtsied.

"You're bath is ready, my lady."

Mel smiled, "Thank you." she said again.

This girl didn't start like the other, but she still looked curiously at Mel before she hurried out of the room. Mel locked the door behind her and stripped out of her icky clothes. And they were icky, more icky than she had thought until she was out of them. Sweat, blood and layers of grime covered every inch of her, not to mention all the tears and holes. She tossed the clothes into a pile in the corner and hoped someone had the good sense to burn them. Then she lowered herself into the hot water and started to scrub.

She scrubbed every inch of herself twice and washed her hair three times for good measure. By the time she was done, the water was getting cold. She got out and dried herself off. Then she pulled the dress over her head and walked out into the sunshine of her room.

"Merciful heavens, what are you wearing?" a shrill voice cried out.

Mel jumped. A tall, spindly woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun stood in the middle of her room, hands on her hips, scowling at her. Mel looked down to see if maybe she had the dress on backward or something. But she didn't see anything wrong with it. She looked back up at the woman, speechless.

The woman looked her up and down sharply, then sighed, obviously exasperated and waved for Mel to come closer. When Mel didn't move instantly, the woman huffed.

"My dear young lady, do you want to look like a peasant or do you want to look like a queen? Get over here!" she ordered.

This time Mel didn't hesitate. She hurried as fast as she could without running. The woman pointed to a stool.

"Up."

Mel obeyed and the woman immediately took out a rod and started measuring, muttering to herself all the while. Mel could barely make out what she said she was talking so fast, but she caught something about 'no time', 'peasant nonsense', and she heard the word 'ridiculous' several times. But once she had poked and prodded and measured for a good five minutes, she snapped up and her face looked much less pessimistic.

"I'll have you a dress in time for dinner." she announced, "And five more by tomorrow morning."

With that she whirled on her heel and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind her with such force that Mel winced. It wasn't until the seamstress was long gone that Mel realized that she had only mentioned dresses. While Mel liked dresses just fine, she was going to need at least one pair of pants and a shirt. She couldn't wield a sword in a dress.

Just as she was thinking that, there was a quiet knock on the door. When Mel opened it, the first servant girl was there, carrying an assortment of slippers.

"Begging your pardon, my lady, but the seamstress wanted these delivered to you immediately. She said they would match the dresses she's preparing for you."

Mel smiled and let her in, "Since you're here, do you think you'll be going back to the seamstress today?"

The girl nodded, "I believe so, my lady. Was there something else you required?"

"Do you think you could ask her to make sure to send me a shirt and pants? I'll need them for sword practice and my old clothes weren't really worth much anymore."

She nodded again as she sat in front of the wardrobe and began arranging the slippers, "Of course, my lady. Anything you wish."

Mel watched her for a second, then tried for a stab at conversation, "Am I going to be seeing a lot of you?"

The girl never looked up from her work, "I am to make sure that you feel welcome and that your stay is comfortable. If I am bothering you, I can leave."

Mel shook her head, smiling, "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that if I'm going to be seeing you around a lot, I thought we might introduce ourselves. I'm Mel."

The girl glanced up from the floor, then went back to arranging, "Yes, you are Lady Melody of Rivendell."

"No, see, I don't really like that. You can just call me Mel."

This time, the girl looked up and stared at her, "Just Mel?" she asked, skeptically.

"That's right. What should I call you?"

She seemed to think about it for a moment. Then she stood up and looked Mel dead in the eye, as if testing her, "My name is Loriel."

Mel smiled and held out her hand, "It's nice to meet you, Loriel."

The girl cocked her head to the side, but she took her hand firmly, "It's a pleasure, Mel. Everyone warned me that you might be difficult. But I never expected this."

"Difficult?" Mel asked, puzzled, "Why would I be difficult?"

"Well, you have power. Everyone knows that those with power demand much and give little." Loriel looked up as if shocked at her own words, "Not that you would be like that at all, begging your pardon, my lady."

Mel waved away her apologies, "It's ok, you don't have to apologize. Besides, I'm nobody important, it's not like I'm any different than you."

Loriel stared at her like she was crazy, "But you are different. You've lived among Elves. It is said that you possess the power to command the forests. And you have the favor of Lord Boromir. You are his honored guest. There are women who would do anything for just an hour in his company and you have spent months with him. You are different, Mel."

Mel didn't know what to say. Loriel stood up and straightened her skirt.

"It is a few hours yet before dinner is served. You should rest. I will come when your dress is ready."

Then the girl hurried out of the room. Mel watched her go, wondering about what she had said. Obviously word of her power and where she came from had spread, and the word wasn't good news. She was going to have her work cut out for her if she was going to dig herself out from under the rumors that already surrounded her. She lay down on the bed and suddenly, she felt exhausted. Maybe she should just close her eyes for a minute. She wouldn't go to sleep, she had too much to think about, too much to plan, but she could just rest her eyes. Just for a...

She was startled awake by the soft knock on her door. She reached for her sword, only to realize she'd left it next to the wardrobe across from her. By that time she was fully awake and realized where she was. Gondor, Minas Tirith, the Citadel. She sighed and sat up. It was much darker in her room than she remembered it. She glanced outside and she could see the last signs of light leaving the sky. She had slept most of the day away.

The soft knock repeated itself along with a muted call, "Lady Melody? Mel? May I come in?"

Mel swung herself out of bed and shuffled across the floor, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Loriel stood outside the door, holding a package draped across her arms.

"Your dress has arrived." Loriel said, smiling. Mel held open the door and waved her in. The girl practically bounced into the room, Mel following groggily behind. Loriel laid the package out on the bed and began unwrapping it carefully.

"Mistress Rosemiren is the best in the city, she's made dresses for royal dignitaries in the past, everything she makes is so splendid."

Mel realized as Loriel babbled that this was the happiest she'd heard her. It was also the first time she'd seen her smile. Mel watched over her shoulder and Loriel carefully untied each string on the package and then gently unfolded each piece of paper that held the dress. There were several layers of the packing paper, but Loriel took her time with each layer, treating it as gently as if it were the dress itself. Finally, the girl stepped back with a satisfied sigh to survey her work.

There, nestled in layers of brown paper, was a green, satin, floor length creation with gold vines embroidered on the hem, across the scoop neckline and down the three quarter sleeves. The waist was belted with thin gold wire, twined and also sporting golden leaves.

"She also sent this." Loriel said, picking out a thin circle of gold and emerald from the nest of papers, "We can arrange it in your hair if you'd like. And the gold slippers I brought will look lovely."

Mel watched the girl's face glow. She smiled.

"I'd like that, I think. Would you mind helping me?"

Loriel's face brightened even more, "Of course, my lady! Come, let's get you into the dress first."

For the next half hour, Loriel primped and fussed over Mel. She took great care to lower the dress slowly over Mel's head so as to put as few wrinkles as possible in the satin. She got out the slippers she had been talking about, then she set to work, combing and arranging the little bit of hair Mel had left. This was the most miserable part for Mel, but Loriel didn't seem in the least bit discouraged. She made only one comment when she first took the hair in her hands.

"Why would you keep such lovely hair so short?"

Mel hesitated, "It's a long story."

Loriel took one look in Mel's eyes and didn't say another word. In fact, she acted as if the question had never been asked. Instead she fussed and pulled and fluffed as if she had been working with hair this length all her life. She kept it down, but she used some kind of oil to make the curls shine and then placed the circle of gold and emeralds on her head, nestled perfectly in her brown curls. Then she added a touch of rouge and something from a pot that moistened Mel's lips, but didn't add any noticeable color. Mel appreciated the fact that she didn't try to over do what passed for make-up here. After months in the wilderness, out of time and place, she thought that over done make-up might be a little too strong at this point. In fact, she was wondering if the make-up were a good idea at all and was just about to ask Loriel if she could take it all off again, when there was a firm knock at her door.

She jumped up, knocking over her chair and nearly knocking into Loriel. She put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" She said, picking up the chair and touching Loriel's arm, "Are you ok? I didn't hit you did I?"

But Loriel just smiled radiantly and brushed at her dress, "I'm fine, Mel. You were expecting someone, I imagine." she curtsied, "It would be my pleasure to act as your lady in waiting and answer the door."

Mel smiled and squeezed her arm, "Thank you."

Loriel touched her hand tentatively, "It really is my pleasure to serve you, Melody of Rivendell."

Then she turned and opened the door. But her radiant grin faltered and she quickly curtsied low, "My lord, forgive me, the lady did not tell me she was expecting you." She glanced quickly at Mel and Mel didn't like what she saw. Fear. She shouldn't be afraid of Boromir. Mel took a few steps toward the door, but Loriel had already risen.

"I shall leave you, of course. Good night, my lord." Then Loriel hurried out of the room. Mel took a deep breath and stepped around the door.

Denethor stood in the hallway.

"Well, well," he said, smiling pleasantly and looking her up and down, "Don't you look splendid."

A/N: All I have to say is... dun, dun, DUUUUUNNNNN! :) See you next chapter. Don't forget to review and tell me how much you hate my cliffie :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ok, ok already, I'm back! :) I'm terribly sorry about the cliffhanger, but I've been dealing with personal issues. Onward!

**Chapter 4**

Mel was frozen in the doorway. All she could do was stare. Her mouth was dry, her stomach felt like it was going to come up her throat and once her heart started beating again, it felt like it was going to hammer it's way out of her chest. She kept her hand on the door to make sure she didn't stumble.

Denethor just stood in the hallway for a moment, assessing her calmly, that innocent smile on his face. He was no longer wearing black, but royal blue robes with silver hemming and white fur lining. The clothes looked odd on him, festive which she hadn't expected. But then again, he wasn't in mourning, why would he wear black? Maybe this was what he wore every day.

Finally, Denethor seemed to finish measuring her up and looked her in the eye. His face rearranged into an expression of genuine concern.

"My dear young lady, you look so pale. Are you feeling well?"

Mel swallowed and took a deep breath, "Sorry, you surprised me. I thought you were someone else."

"My son was supposed to meet you, of course. You must forgive Boromir, there was an urgent matter I wished for him to attend to and I assured him I would escort you to dinner in his place."

The Steward held out his hand and Mel had to fight the urge to flinch.

"Shall we?"

She hesitated for a second and she even impulsively wished for her sword, but she quickly dismissed the thought. She didn't think Denethor would try to hurt her using conventional means. He was a clever man. If he was going to try and hurt her he would use his mind rather than his strength and a sword would be useless against an attack like that. Besides, if his sons were anything to judge by, she would be horribly outmatched in a test of swordsmanship.

She steeled herself and put her hand in his. It was warm and his fingers wrapped around her's gently before he pulled her out into the hallway and shut the door behind her. The thud sounded ominous in Mel's ears, but of course she was a little freaked out. Denethor smiled and carefully tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She resisted the urge to pull away. They started a slow stroll down the hallway.

"I must tell you," Denethor said, "There was another reason I asked my son to allow me the pleasure of your company."

Mel's whole body tensed, but she took a deep breath and looked up at the Steward as casually as she could.

"And what would that be, Lord Denethor?"

"I think I might have frightened you today and I wish to apologize."

His abrupt confession startled her. She stared at him with a suspicious eye.

"My behavior must have seemed odd to you, perhaps even hostile," He continued, staring ahead down the hallway, "After what my son tells me you have been through, I do not blame you for your fear. But I wish to assure you," He turned so he could meet her eyes, "I meant no harm to you. You are the guest of my son and he holds you in the highest regard. You will be treated as an honored guest of this family for as long as you are here."

He smiled then, but Mel wasn't exactly convinced. His words were eloquent, his face the picture of repentance and friendship. But something didn't seem right. She got the feeling that he wouldn't be apologizing to her unless there were something in it for him. Maybe she was being unfair, maybe she was allowing her previous knowledge to cloud her judgment, but she knew she would be keeping an eye on the Steward of Gondor, despite his reassurances.

For now though, she smiled back, "Thank you, my lord." she murmured, dipping her head politely.

He seemed pleased that she had accepted his apology, "Now then, tell me a little more about yourself. Have you lived long in Imladris?"

Immediately, Mel's guard went up, "A while."

"And before?"

This would be tricky, "I came from the forest."

It was true. She had been found in the forest, so technically she guessed that's where she came from.

"You're parents were woodsmen?" he asked without so much as a blink.

Mel figured that sounded as good as any lie she could come up with, so she nodded, "But I remember very little of them. They died when I was young and the Elves took me in."

"Boromir tells me you have the Sight."

Mel started. It wasn't something she had expected Boromir to tell him. What else did he know? "You could say that. But that gift has gotten sort of unreliable."

"But I hear your other gift has not." He said, glancing down at her. Mel thought she saw just a glint of something cold and calculating. They were finally at the heart of the discussion.

"No, my lord, my connection to the trees has not weakened at all."

"I have heard many strange things about you, Melody of Rivendell." he said, "Some whisper that you are a witch, a servant of a dark master."

"And what about you, Lord Denethor?" she asked, looking him in the eye, "What would happen if everyone believed the rumors that are whispered behind your back?"

He looked down at her curiously. Then he grinned and this time it reached his eyes. He inclined his head to her, "Well met, my lady, well met indeed. If everyone believed every rumor and rambling of crazed men we would all lose our minds."

Mel wasn't quite sure if she should be happy that Denethor seemed so pleased with her answer, but she tried to smile anyway.

Denethor continued to look at her curiously, "Of course, one cannot help but wonder how power such as yours has come to one so young. It must come from somewhere, don't you agree?"

Mel dropped her eyes, "I only know that I was chosen for a reason, Lord Denethor, and until that reason is revealed to me, I'm just trying to do what I think is the right thing." She looked up at him, "I'm here to help as much as I can."

Denethor smiled, "But you say that you would help defend our city. I am interested to know how you think your power could possibly make a difference against the army that even now rises against us." He looked at her with disdain now, "I have seen this army. A single person could not hope to stand against them, much less a woman barely out of girlhood."

Something about that made Mel's ears perk up. Something was wrong with what he'd said or how he'd said it. But she didn't have time to analyze it right now. The Steward was obviously waiting for a brilliant response and she didn't have one to give him. How did she expect to be any help defending this city? She could barely defend herself. She didn't know battle tactics or have any skills that might be of any help at all. All she could do was talk to trees.

She turned her eyes back to the floor, "I don't know, my lord. But if I can help, I will."

Denethor smirked and they walked on in silence. Mel wasn't sure what to say. Her mind was racing. What could she possibly do? Not for the first time, she wished Boromir was there.

They approached a set of large double doors, guarded by two men at arms. They were dressed in gold and royal blue with the white tree emblazoned on their chests. Guards of the Citadel. As the Steward approached, the guards each took one of the doors and pushed them inward in a grand gesture.

The room was large, too large for the amount of people inside. It was only a dozen, all men in different uniforms. They were seated at a large table in the front of the room, the only table of many that was set for dinner. A large roast pig and platters of vegetables and breads were set out. Mel instantly recognized Gandalf and Faramir, but the other men in the room were strangers to her. Boromir wasn't there.

Denethor led her forward into the room. All conversation had stopped when they entered and the men stood, staring. Mel felt very self-conscious. What was she doing here? She didn't belong here any more than she belonged with the Elves.

"I do hope you don't object to keeping an old man company at the dinner table, Lady Melody." Denethor said.

Mel stared at him and said the first thing that popped in her head, "There are a lot of words I would use to describe you Lord Denethor, but old isn't one of them."

Denethor laughed out loud at that, a deep, brash sound that took Mel by surprise. A lot of things about the Steward were not what she'd expected.

"You are too kind, dear girl, much too kind. After keeping the company of my son for so long, I hope that I don't seem a bore to you."

"Boring is another word I would never use to describe you, my lord." she said, and she meant it, though not necessarily as a compliment.

He laughed again as he led her to the table. His laughter seemed to have relaxed the group. The lords (that's what they were, they had to be), leaned their heads together in murmured conversation. The only one still watching them closely was Gandalf and Mel couldn't interpret his stare, enigmatic as always. Damn wizards.

They passed by Faramir and he smiled as they passed, "Well met again, Mel, and under considerably better circumstances."

Mel smiled back, "I think any circumstances would be better than the circumstances we met under, Lord Faramir."

He inclined his head to her, "Indeed so."

He was seated two seats to the right of the center chair, but he pulled out a chair for her just to the left of the center, next to Gandalf. Denethor released her arm and allowed her to be seated. The men all followed her lead. She turned and smiled at the wizard. Gandalf nodded at her.

"Good evening, Mel."

"Hello again." Mel said.

Just at that moment, Denethor took up his wine goblet. The men fell silent and picked up their own glasses.

"Tonight we gather to celebrate hope. Even in the face of evil, despite the cleverness of the Enemy and the darkness of the hour, hope still lives in Gondor and in the Men who defend her, as it has lived on for generations before them." The Steward raised his glass, "May it live on for countless generations more. To hope and a new day!"

A chorus of voices echoed his toast and everyone sipped from their glasses. Mel tasted her wine. It was rich and fruity and she quickly put it down. Best to sip that stuff carefully.

Denethor lowered his glass and sat in the center, right next to Mel. There was an empty chair between him and Faramir and it drew Mel's attention. Where was Boromir?

A servant appeared and began carving the roast pig. He first served the Steward, then Faramir, then he turned to Mel.

"My Lady?" he said politely, indicating the piece he was cutting.

Mel was so nervous she didn't know what she should do. She didn't want to look like an idiot. So she decided to treat this like Thanksgiving at her grandmother's house. Super polite and as quiet as possible. She smiled and picked up her plate. Her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself, but she needn't have bothered. The servant took her plate from her and served her a portion than set it on the table again.

"Thank you." she said, automatically.

The servant started and glanced at her, but he quickly recovered and moved on to the next dinner guest. Denethor glanced at her as well, but said nothing. Mel dropped her eyes. Was it considered a faux pas to be polite around here? This was getting ridiculous. She decided she needed another sip of her wine.

As the guests were being served, Denethor turned his attention to the lords, "To business, my lords. We have troubling news from the East. My sons tell me that the Enemy has crossed the river and overrun Osgiliath. We must decide whether to send fresh troops to the eastern border to reclaim the crossing, or to maintain our own defenses here in the capital."

"The force crossing the Anduin was great." Faramir said, addressing the other lords, "Many thousands strong and more crossing even as we retreated. And the Nazgul were present as well, leading the forces of Sauron forward. I believe that any attempt at regaining the city of Osgiliath would be an unnecessary risk and my brother agrees with me."

"Perhaps the Lord Boromir would like to speak for himself. Where is your long lost son, Lord Denethor?" one of the lords asked. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with the typical dark hair and gray eyes that leaned more toward blue.

"My son seems to be running a bit late this evening." Denethor said politely, but with a hard edge to his voice, "Perhaps, Lord Hurin, you would like to scold him when he appears."

Lord Hurin lowered his eyes and took a sip from his goblet, but didn't reply.

"Perhaps the young lady can tell us." said another of the lords, making Mel jump. This was an older, larger man, almost fat, with a gray beard and sparkling eyes the exact same color. He leaned over Gandalf and smiled at her, "You are his companion, are you not?"

Mel swallowed and nodded, "I traveled with him, yes. But I haven't seen him since this morning when we rode into the city."

She clasped her hands under the table so no one would see her shaking.

"Well, perhaps Lord Denethor could tell us what exactly you're doing here." The first lord, Lord Hurin said, "Bringing a lady to a council of war is highly unusual."

"She is here at my request." a voice boomed out.

Mel's heart leaped and everyone turned to the doors. Boromir strode across the room, dressed in a blue and silver tunic emblazoned with the white tree of Gondor.

"You would do well not to underestimate her, my lords. She is far more than she appears." He came around the table and sat in the empty chair, "Forgive me, Father, I was delayed. There is much to be done."

Denethor nodded, "Of course. We were just discussing the situation in Osgiliath."

"The situation is as grim as they say and more so." Boromir said, sweeping his gaze around the table, "Orcs crawl through the city streets like rats, arming themselves and preparing for a march on Minas Tirith."

"Which is why we should attack them now, while they are still disorganized." said one of the lords, a man who had not yet spoken. He looked a little younger than the other lords and his eyes glinted with eagerness.

"I agree with Dervorin." said another lord, the only lord with hair that wasn't dark. It was a sandy blonde and his eyes were bright blue. He was also the only one at the table besides Mel wearing all green, "We should attack the forces of Mordor while they are still in preparation. Perhaps we will have the chance to beat them back while they are vulnerable."

There was murmur of agreement from the other lords. Mel looked at them like they were all crazy. Really? Was this actually happening? She happened to make eye contact with Faramir. If this happened he was going to get hurt, really hurt, close to death. Of course, that was how he met Eowyn and it all worked out, but, what if it didn't work out this time? So much was different, so much had changed. And if she didn't speak up and Boromir's brother died, he would never speak to her again. And what about all the other men that would march on Osgiliath, the men who never came back? Could she live with their lives on her conscious?

"They aren't vulnerable." she said.

She had spoken timidly, but she might as well have shouted it. The room went completely silent. Everyone turned to stare at her. Gandalf gently grabbed her elbow.

"Mel..." he said in a warning tone.

But she shook off his hand and repeated herself, louder this time, "They aren't vulnerable!"

"And who are you to speak on such things?" Lord Hurin said.

"One who knows." Boromir said, his eyes never leaving her face, "One who knows and wouldn't speak unless she deemed it necessary."

Denethor put his hand on hers. Mel flinched and looked at him. His face was grave.

"Tell us what you know of this, Lady Melody."

Mel took a deep breath, "If you do this, if you send men to try to take back Osgiliath, they'll all die." she looked first at Faramir and then at Boromir, "And it won't stop anything. The army will still come to Minas Tirith. You'll still be besieged. You should concentrate on protecting the city, not taking back what you've already lost."

It felt good to say the things she'd always said as she was reading and screamed at the movie screen countless times and to actually be heard. At the same time, it was terrifying. She wouldn't look at Gandalf, refused to turn her head even a little in his direction. She did not want to see what he thought of her decision.

The other men at the table looked less than convinced. They glanced at each other skeptically.

Lord Hurin spoke first, "Forgive me my lords, but are we to take the word of this woman who has only this morning come to our city, untested and of questionable origins, over the opinions of well-respected lords and seasoned warriors?"

"I do not believe my nephew would bring anyone into our midst that he did not trust with absolute certainty." The deep voice came from a man that had not yet spoken at the end of the table. Mel turned her eyes on him in awe. He was dressed in a deep blue cloak and his eyes were the color of a stormy ocean, his dark hair just long enough that it touched his shoulders. Prince Imrahil looked at her with a stern gaze, but he smiled and inclined his head to her. Mel had just enough of her sanity left to keep from gaping and to smile back gratefully.

"If you do not trust the word of the lady, Lord Hurin, then trust in the judgment of two of your own who have come from Osgiliath." said Faramir, placing a hand on Boromir's arm. Mel glanced down. Boromir's fists were clenched. "Both Boromir and I fled the city and we are of one mind on the matter. Any attempt to reclaim Osgiliath would be foolhardy."

"Ultimately, the decision rests with the Steward." Gandalf said, speaking for the first time on the subject. Everyone turned to look at the wizard, but he kept his eyes on Denethor, "What say you, Lord Denethor of Gondor?"

Denethor looked around the table, pondering, "As much as I respect the opinions of everyone present, I must defer to my sons' judgment on the matter. They were the ones present when Osgiliath was overrun and I trust their assessment of the situation. Osgiliath is lost. We must prepare for an inevitable attack on Minas Tirith."

Mel let out a sigh of relief as the lords mumbled amongst themselves. Lord Hurin took another sip of his wine, but his eyes rested on her. He didn't exactly scowl, but it certainly wasn't a friendly look. Mel dropped her eyes to her own wine and took another tiny sip.

"Well, now that's been settled we can get down to the business of tactics." Said one of the lords, a tall, broad man, scruffy like a mountain man, with pitch black hair and beard and eyes just as dark. The two younger men on either side of him looked very much like him, "My sons can each command the archers on the battlements on either side of the city."

With the conversation safely turned away from her, Mel risked another glance up. Boromir was watching her. He smiled when their eyes met and he raised his glass to her a bit. She grinned and did the same. He mouthed something to her that looked like, "Try the soup."

She looked down and saw a small bowl in front of her. It looked like some sort of mushroom soup with broth. She picked up a spoon and glanced one more time at Boromir, pointing at the bowl as discreetly as she could. He grinned and nodded. She took a breath, dipped in her spoon and took a taste. She closed her eyes and sighed. It was heaven. Mushroom soup that tasted like it also had onion or leek, in a beefy broth, seasoned with other things that she couldn't quite name, but it all came together with perfection in her mouth. She opened her eyes and looked at Boromir. If he had been grinning any wider his face would have split in half.

"Boromir!"

They both jumped and turned. Lord Hurin was glaring at Boromir and Mel in turn.

"I was simply trying to get your opinion on how the men should be positioned on the levels of the city for the best defense against the coming hoards."

"And trying to keep you from being sucked in by the wiles of the beauty in our midst!" Said the gray haired lord next to Gandalf. The other lords all laughed, while Mel felt her cheeks start to heat up even as she held back a giggle. The older lord leaned forward to get a good look at Lord Hurin, "Not trying to steal her for yourself, are you Hurin? I think she's a little young for you." He glanced at Mel and winked, "Now me on the other hand, I'm the exception to the rule."

Mel looked him straight in the eye with the haughtiest look she could muster, "My lord, I make it a rule never to flirt with strangers. Lord Hurin, therefore, is a full step ahead of you. At least I know his name."

The older man roared with laughter, then leaned over to look at Boromir, "I don't know where you picked her up, lad, but keep an eye out, she's got a tongue to her."

"So I've been told." Boromir said, glancing at his father. Denethor said nothing.

The lord got up from his chair to stand next to Mel. He saluted with his hand on his chest, "I am Forlong, lord of Lossarnach, one of the southern provinces of Gondor."

He offered her his hand, grinning widely. Mel smiled and allowed him to kiss her hand, "I'm pleased to meet you, Lord Forlong."

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Melody of Rivendell." He leaned down and stage whispered to her, "But I'm afraid our pleasantries must end or I might find myself on the wrong end of a certain young man's sword."

Mel laughed as he winked at her and returned to his seat.

"It seems that as a host, I have been remiss in my duties." Denethor said, patting Mel's hand, "I have brought you into the midst of strangers and made no effort to introduce you properly, Lady Melody. You must forgive me."

Mel smiled at the Steward, "There's nothing to forgive. You were busy with much more important things."

"But now I will make it up to you." Denethor pointed to the far end of the table, "There is my late wife's brother, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." The prince raised his glass to her and she smiled and nodded at him, "Beside him is Lord Duinhir and his two sons, Duilin and Durufin, archers from Blackroot Vale," These were the scruffy black haired men, "Next to them of course is Lord Hurin, Keeper of the Keys of Minas Tirith," He of course did not looked pleased at all, "You already know both of my sons," Denethor moved on to the other side of her, skipping Gandalf completely, much to Mel's surprise, "And you've already been introduced to Lord Forlong of Lossarnach. Next to him is Lord Dervorin, the eldest son of the lord of Ringlo Vale," This was the young man who had been so eager to attack Osgiliath. He grinned and raised his goblet to her. Mel smiled back at him. "Next is Lord Golasgil of Anfalas," This was the only man at the table who had not yet spoken. He was tall and gaunt, with short brown hair and a thin mustache. He looked up at her with timid, blue eyes that were almost clear. Mel smiled at him and he returned it briefly before lowering his eyes to his plate again, "And there at the end is Lord Hirluin of the Greenhills." This was the fair haired, blue-eyed man in green who had agreed with Lord Dervorin. He grinned and raised his goblet to her. Denethor regarded all of them, "Gentlemen, may I present Lady Melody of Rivendell."

They all raised their glasses and drank, some more grudgingly than others. Mel smiled, "I'm very pleased to meet you all."

"Well, perhaps now that the pleasantries are all out of the way, we can continue preparing for the battle to come?" said Lord Hurin with a disdainful look in Mel's direction. Mel dropped her eyes to her plate and didn't look up for the rest of the evening.

A/N: Once again, really sorry for the delay. This chapter kicked my butt! Hopefully, I'll be able to update a bit more frequently now that the holiday craziness is over :). Don't forget to review! Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Well, so much for the quick updates. I'm really sorry about the delays guys, I'm dealing with a lot of personal issues right now so try to bear with me. :) Time to move on and see what other kinds of trouble Mel and Co. can get themselves into. Thanks for all the feedback, as always it is greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 5**

Finally, after what felt like hours of nothing but unintelligible babbling about defenses, flanks and battlements, the lords agreed to adjourn for the night and reconvene the next day to make sure their men were strategically placed where it might be most beneficial. They all bid Mel a polite goodnight, even Hurin, though his was decidedly more grudging than the others. Mel's eyes locked with Boromir's, but before he had taken even a step in her direction, someone grabbed Mel's elbow from behind. She whirled around to face Gandalf looking at her very gravely.

"I believe it's time we had that discussion I spoke of earlier, Mel. Might I walk you to your room?"

Mel glanced behind her and saw that Boromir had been swept into an animated conversation with his father. She tried to hide her disappointment as she turned back to the wizard, smiling.

"Of course, Gandalf." she said. The wizard kept a firm hold on her elbow as he led her toward the double doors, as if he were afraid that she might try to break away from him and make a run for it. He shouldn't have worried. She wasn't that stupid. She might not have been looking forward to the conversation, but she knew it was inevitable.

When they were safely out of the dining hall and Gandalf had determined that they were quite alone, he slowed down to a leisurely stroll.

"I know much of what has happened to you, Mel." he said, "The councils of the Valar are heated and a cause of much disturbance in the world. Those with an ear to hear may learn much. You have disrupted the song as it was supposed to be sung, rewritten a tale that should have remained as it was." Mel kept her eyes ahead of her, but she saw him glance at her and she thought she saw a small smile, "But that is not entirely your fault. Your path was altered from the beginning. Even knowing as little about you as I do, I should have expected no less. Your heart is strong and it leads you faithfully. You were never meant to bear this Mel." Mel finally looked at him and discovered that he was smiling kindly at her, "But now bear it you must and bear it honorably. And it will not be easy."

"Nothing about this has been easy." she said, her fingers straying to the Yavannacor, twisting it nervously.

"No, no it hasn't. And it will not get any easier. Even now the Valar prepare to place before you an impossible choice."

"A life for a life." Mel whispered. She looked up at the wizard, "How am I supposed to choose who lives and who dies? It isn't fair."

"No it isn't." Gandalf said, stopping and taking both her hands in his, "It isn't fair and you should never have been given this choice. I can only tell you to follow your heart as you have done before."

"That's what got me into this mess." Mel said.

"Your heart is strong, Mel. Let it help you fight your battles."

Mel raised a confused eyebrow, "I don't get it."

Gandalf smiled, "You will. When it matters most, you will understand."

Mel had no idea what he was talking about, as usual, but she believed him when he said she would get it when it mattered. She just hoped that wasn't too late. They kept walking for a few moments in silence. Finally Gandalf spoke again.

"I do not know that I agree with you speaking out tonight as you did."

Mel smiled a little, "I know."

"It is still dangerous, Mel, speaking of what you know, even with so much altered. I would urge caution when you speak to others here who might come to you for answers. Some things should be left as they are."

"I understand, Gandalf. You're right." Mel said, "I won't give away too much, I promise."

"Knowing what is too much might prove difficult. I would urge you not to speak of your knowledge again, but you'll keep to your own council on such matters, I'm sure. I have found it is often pointless to try and dissuade you."

Mel smiled at Gandalf, "Would it make you feel better if I promised to do my best anyway?"

Gandalf nodded, "It would relieve a little of my worry."

"Then I promise."

They had reached Mel's door. Gandalf stopped her for a moment.

"One other piece of advice. Do not be discouraged by Lord Hurin's skepticism. He only seeks to protect that which he holds most dear. This city and it's rulers are more precious to him than his own life. He would do anything to keep them from harm."

Mel smiled, "I know, Gandalf. It doesn't bother me, I kind of expected it."

Gandalf smiled back, "I am glad to hear it, because I am sure this will not be the last time Lord Hurin of the Keys questions your motives. Stay true to yourself, Mel and he will see your intentions are honorable."

"I hope so." Mel said.

Gandalf nodded, "Well then, you are tired I'm sure. I'll leave you to your rest. Sleep well, Melody Calenhiril."

When he spoke that name, it made Mel pause and look up, but he had already turned away, taking long purposeful strides down the hallway. In less than a moment he was out of sight. Mel grinned and shook her head.

_Damn wizards._

–

Mel woke the next morning just as the sun was beginning to light the horizon. She laid in bed for a minute, wondering why she was awake. Finally, she realized that this was around the same time Boromir would have woken her on the road. She waited a few moments longer, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he might tap on her door, just like he'd done every morning for a week now. But he didn't come.

Finally, she rolled out of bed and stretched, wiggling her toes in the thick green carpet. She used the wash basin across the room to wash her face and brushed her hair. She glanced into the mirror and jumped. The image in the glass still didn't immediately register as her own. She ran her hands through her short, curly hair and brushed her thumb across the ugly scar on her forehead. She had lost a lot of weight too and it showed in her face. But there was something else there that was unfamiliar, something so subtle that she was only now able to recognize it for what it was. She looked older. Six months ago she had looked so much younger than her age. She was twenty-six, but she still got carded at clubs. It was a big joke in her family. But now she looked so much older than that. It wasn't just the scar, or the hair, or even the dark circles under her eyes. It was something IN her eyes. They had always been bright with a youthful energy, but now they glowed with a deeper, more experienced light. She was surprised to discover that she didn't really mind the change. She smiled at her reflection.

There was a soft knock on the door, "Mel? May I come in?"  
It was Loriel. Mel turned and opened the door. The girl carried an armload of packages and her face was concerned.

"I hope I didn't wake you. I'm an early riser."

Mel grinned, "Not at all. Apparently I am too."

She opened the door wider and the girl scampered inside, laying her burdens on the bed.

"These are the dresses from Mistress Rosemiren. I will unwrap them and hang them for you if you like, but first, I believe you requested these."

Loriel turned and very solemnly handed Mel a brown paper package carefully tied with twine.

Mel smiled, "Is this my pants and shirt I asked for?" Loriel nodded as Mel started to untie the string, "I hope it wasn't any trouble."

Loriel shook her head, "Oh no, not at all. The most difficult thing was finding a proper size to start out with. The alterations themselves were very simple, it took me only an hour to complete."

Mel paused in her unwrapping and looked up, "Wait... Loriel, did you do this?"

The girl blushed and turned away, unwrapping a dress as she spoke, "Mistress Rosemiren is a very old fashioned lady. She didn't consider your request proper. I found an extra pair of breeches and a shirt and altered them as best I could. My skills are limited of course, only what my mother taught me. I hope you don't object."

Mel finished unwrapping the brown paper and unfolded the white shirt. It looked tailor made for her. The stitching was wonderful, she couldn't even tell that it had been altered. The pair of brown pants were the same, plain but flawless.

"It's perfect." she said.

Loriel looked up and started to smile, "Really?"

"Absolutely, it's exactly what I needed. Thank you, Loriel, you didn't have to do that."

The girl's face was glowing with pride, "It was no trouble, Mel, none at all. I am so pleased that you like them."

Mel grinned and grabbed her sword belt and boots, "I'm gonna go change. Don't disappear."

Loriel smiled, "I'm going to hang your dresses."

Mel hurried into the little bathroom and changed as quickly as she could. The clothes fit as well as they looked. She had forgotten what it felt like to wear comfortable clothes that actually fit. She put on her boots, strapped on her belt and walked back out, testing her sword swing. She did a small starting exercise. It was wonderful to not have to worry about her clothes getting in the way because they were too loose. She hadn't realized how much of her concentration had been focused that way until she didn't have to think about it anymore. She sheathed her sword with a satisfied flourish. Loriel was watching her with admiration.

"I have never seen a lady wield a sword as you do. You are so familiar with it."

Mel smiled, "You learn fast when your life depends on it." She turned so Loriel could see all sides of her, "How do I look?"

Loriel smiled, "Like a warrior. How do you feel?"

Mel grinned, "Like I could take on an army."

Loriel nodded, "I am glad the fit suits you. I had to jot down the measurements in secret while Mistress Rosemiren's back was turned."

Mel put her hands on her hips, "Why, Loriel, you are quite the little sneak."

Loriel grinned and dropped her eyes, "One does what one must."

"I know it, trust me."

Mel glanced outside. The sun was hidden by the darkness covering the sky from Mordor, but it looked a little bit brighter.

"Where could I go to do my practice, Loriel?"

The girl was still unwrapping dresses carefully and didn't look up, "The men of the Guard have a practice yard not far from here. If you follow the hallway right until you exit the Citadel and turn left you will stumble upon it."

Mel put a hand on her arm, making Loriel pause and look up, "Thanks for taking care of me. I mean it."

Loriel smiled, "It is a real pleasure to serve you, Mel. In these dark days there are not many with your kindness. Thank you for that."

"I'll see you later?" Mel asked.

The girl smiled, "Of course, I will check on you before you lunch with the Steward this afternoon."

"Alright, see you then." Mel strode out the door, trying to ignore the knot that had formed in her stomach when she found out she would be eating with the Steward again. She could worry about that later.

Loriel's directions were surprisingly easy to follow and Mel was shocked when she made it to the practice yard without getting lost once. She was even fairly certain she could make it back to her room without trouble. And when she stepped into the practice yard, retreat was definitely her first thought.

It was a dirt rectangle that looked roughly the size of a basketball court, surrounded by waist high wooden walls that spectators hung around, shouting jeers and encouragement to those working inside. Along the right wall stood a line of straw dummies dressed in armor, but the rest of the yard was empty space for sparring.

There were several men practicing in the yard when Mel arrived, but the second she set foot in the dust everything stopped and everyone turned. It was deathly silent as all the men, about twenty or more, stared at her with something like shock on their faces.

Mel was trying to decide if it would be more mortifying to turn and run or to stand her ground, when a venomous, but familiar voice shouted across the yard.

"Behold, gentlemen of the Citadel, the witch who has deceived your Captain!"

Mel's heart stopped. It couldn't be...

A man vaulted the wall and strode across the yard toward her, tossing his light colored hair and looking smug. She knew that smug face. It was Vanion. Vanion, the former Warden of the beacon at Nardol, the man who had been taken from that place as a prisoner for trying to take advantage of her, the man who had started the nasty rumors of witchcraft. He came right up to her, still smiling, his bright blue eyes glittering with a hateful light. Mel's eyes narrowed and her hand rested on her sword hilt.

"What are you doing here, Vanion?" she asked. She was surprised that her voice was so calm.

He laughed and Mel had to fight the urge to wince, "What am I doing here? Don't you recall, Lady Melody? You sent me here. But it seems that my telling of our encounter held enough weight to absolve me. After all, I simply defended myself against a witch."

He spit out the word with such disgust that Mel almost took a step back. But she held her ground.

"I'm not a witch. That's a lie and you know it. I've done nothing to provoke you..."

"You tried to kill me!" Vanion screamed, "You tied me down with tree branches while the vines tried to choke the life out of me!"

"After you attacked me!" Mel cried out, crouching down, her hand wrapped around her sword hilt, "Just because you didn't get what you wanted from me, doesn't mean you get to act like a spoiled child."

"A child you call me?" he said, his eyes burning with loathing, "A child?"

He unsheathed his sword and attacked with such speed that Mel almost didn't have time to react. The second their swords clashed, everything else fell away. This man was going to kill her. Nothing else mattered beyond this fight and getting away from it alive. Everything became a blur of swings, blocks, jabs and parries that sent dust flying through the air. Mel used everything she had been taught, letting it flow out of her effortlessly as she watched for something in Vanion's defense to give way. He was a whirlwind, attacking and attacking without pause or thought, hacking at her with the mindless anger of an orc. As soon as that thought entered her mind, everything changed. This wasn't a man. This was an orc, an orc that was trying to kill her. And so that was how she began to treat him. She let him hack and jab, blocking every time. Then, when he hacked at her again, instead of blocking she stepped to the left. The momentum of Vanion's swing pulled him off balance and before he could right himself, Mel kicked him in the back. He went sprawling face first into the dirt, losing a grip on his sword as he fell. He flipped himself over and reached for his sword. Mel didn't wait for him to get up. If she did, he would kill her, she was sure of it. She ran at him, sword raised, screaming out all her frustration and anger.

Someone grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back. She panicked and cried out, struggling and kicking to free herself.

"Mel, be still, be still."

It took a moment for Mel to recognize the soft voice as Faramir's. She stopped struggling and looked up at him. His face was grave and he reached up a hand to stroke her hair soothingly.

"It's alright now, it's alright."

Mel took a deep shuddering breath and looked back at Vanion. His eyes were wide, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring up the length of a sword. Boromir's sword. Boromir stood as still as a statue with the tip of his blade pressed into the hollow of Vanion's neck. His eyes and face were as cold and emotionless as stone.

"Explain to me, Vanion, why I should not strike you down where you lay?"

"The witch, she attacked me, my lord Boromir, viciously, you saw..."

Boromir pressed his sword a little harder and Vanion choked back his words. If Boromir pressed any further Mel was sure he'd draw blood.

"That woman there," Boromir said, "Is the only reason I did not slay you at Nardol, you sniveling little viper. And I swore I would kill you if you ever laid a hand on her again."

"I did her no harm, my lord, none!" Vanion was almost gasping now, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with fear.

Boromir paused and glanced at Mel. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed.

"He's right. I'm not hurt."

Boromir's eyes flicked back to Vanion. His sword didn't move.

"Boromir." Faramir spoke, quietly. The sword still didn't move.

Mel pulled herself away from Faramir and went to stand beside his brother. Boromir's eyes were boring into the panicked face of Vanion. Vanion's eyes flickered back and forth between them. Mel watched him closely. He seemed so petty and small now, like a bully in middle school now being put in his place by a bigger, older bully. And as much as she wanted him dead, her conscience wouldn't allow her to order his execution, not now when he looked so small and defenseless. She put her hand lightly on Boromir's shoulder.

"It's alright, Boromir." she said, softly, "It's alright. He didn't hurt me."

Boromir's sword wavered and then slowly dropped to his side, "She has saved you again, worm." he muttered, "You should show some gratitude. It is far more than you deserve."

He turned his back and began to stride across the dusty practice field. Mel stared down into Vanion's eyes. His wide-eyed disbelief quickly narrowed to venomous resentment.

"Do not think because you spared my life that I belong to you, witch." He growled.

Mel's eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't want you if you offered yourself to me, Vanion." she said, "The only thing I want is to never, ever see you again. I've saved your life twice now. Asking me to do it again would be pushing your luck."

She spun on her heel and almost ran smack into Faramir. She'd forgotten he was there. His eyes were wide when he looked at her. He had heard all of it. She held his gaze without flinching.

"Lord Faramir."

He inclined his head to her, "Well met again, Lady Melody, well met indeed."

She nodded to him, then swept by, striding across the still and silent practice field with her head held high. The crowd had more than doubled as she and Vanion had fought. She felt the gaze of a hundred eyes on her, but she ignored them. She walked off the field and headed toward the Citadel. Boromir was standing by the wall, waiting. As she swept by him into the building, Mel spoke only one sentence.

"You should have let me finish."

Then she left him standing outside with her hurt pride still hanging in the air around him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know, I know, I did it again! :( I'm so sorry. I promise, I'm working on this story, I really am, but it's been really slow going. I'll try to do my best, as always. For now, enjoy a new chapter!

**Chapter**** 6**

Mel stayed in her assigned space for the rest of the morning. She changed into one of the dresses Loriel had brought her, a beautiful soft gray gown with silver lace at the sleeves, hem and collar. Loriel had also brought a basket of fruit up to her room and that was what Mel ate for breakfast. She took the basket out into the beautiful little garden outside her room, curled up on the grass and munched on an apple. Her room faced east and so she had a view of Mordor from where she sat. It looked dark and frightening even from such a distance. She sighed.

_Poor__ Frodo__, _she thought, _Poor __Sam__._

She was suddenly struck by a wave of loneliness. She missed the Fellowship, she missed the hobbits, she missed Gimli and she missed Legolas. Legolas would have let her finish what she'd started this morning.

_I had him, _she thought, _I had him and he stopped me. Why?_

She just couldn't understand. She'd had Vanion in the dirt. He was her's, fair and square, one of the first fights she'd ever felt like she'd won fairly. And it had all come to a screeching halt. In front of all of those soldiers. Her face burned just thinking about it. Why would Boromir do that? Was it customary to just step into a fight like that? Mel didn't think so. And now any respect that she might have earned was lost. She didn't even feel any respect for herself. Because despite the fact that she knew she could have won, she hadn't won. She still had never fairly won a fight.

She didn't know how long she sat and brooded over it, turning it over and over in her mind. Time has very little meaning when the sun is shrouded in an impenetrable haze. But when someone cleared their throat behind her, she jumped a mile.

"Oh Mel, I'm terribly sorry!" Loriel exclaimed, "I thought you heard me enter."

Mel put her hand to her chest and took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, "No, no I didn't hear you, Loriel, I'm sorry."

Loriel's bright blue eyes looked Mel up and down, "The gown suits you."

Mel glanced down, "You think?"

Loriel nodded, "Well enough. Come, I will comb your hair."

"What for?" Mel asked, even as she got up and brushed the grass off her skirt.

"Lunch with the Steward and his sons will begin within the hour."

Mel's stomach lurched, "Oh, right." She had forgotten all about it.

"I'm sure someone will be here to escort you shortly." Loriel said, with a quick glance to Mel as they walked back into her room.

"Right, sure." Mel said, slightly dazed. No one had said anything about coming for her. Maybe no one was coming. If no one came, did that mean she didn't have to go? Even more horrifying, what if Denethor came for her again? She didn't know if she could handle another awkward conversation with the Steward of Gondor.

Loriel sat her down and began to comb through her curls while Mel tried not to think about the knot in her stomach.

"I heard about what happened on the practice field." Loriel said quietly, "The Citadel is abuzz with it."

"Great." Mel said, rolling her eyes, "So everyone knows."

"Yes, your skill is the subject of much admiration in the barracks. I imagine you will have many challenges come the morrow."

That caught Mel's attention, "What?"

"The men are anxious to test their skills against one trained with both the elves and their Captain. You have a unique style many say they've never seen before."

"But," Mel said, "But, I didn't win."

"I also heard of Lord Boromir's..." Loriel paused, "distasteful behavior. The men spoke of that as well, and none too proudly. In their minds, the point is moot. The fight was decided." She paused again and looked at Mel in the mirror, "Was that what was troubling you so deeply, Mel? The fight this morning?"

Even though that wasn't the only thing that had bothered her, Mel felt that a small weight had been lifted from her mind. At least she could hold up her head as she walked the halls, knowing that she wasn't being ridiculed for Boromir's interruption.

"Partly," Mel said finally, "Not all of it, but partly."

"Well, I am pleased that I could ease your mind of that at least." Loriel said, continuing to comb through her hair, "I sense that you have so much that burdens you, Mel. If there is anything I can do, I will be pleased to do it."

Mel smiled, "Thank you, Loriel." But on the inside she was thinking, _"Sister, you have no idea."_

Loriel finished combing her hair, then had Mel stand and turn to make sure there were no stains or tears in her dress.

"That should be sufficient." Loriel said.

Just at that moment, there was a knock on the door. Loriel smiled, "Allow me."

She went to the door while Mel stood to the side, waiting with her hands clasped nervously. Loriel opened the door and looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. She curtsied.

"My lord, forgive me, we weren't expecting you."

"Of course," spoke a familiar voice, but not one Mel was expecting, "I've come to see if Lady Melody would allow me to accompany her to luncheon."

Loriel glanced at Mel, then took a modest step back. Mel took that as her cue to step forward. Faramir stood smiling in the doorway. Mel smiled back.

"Lord Faramir." she said.

"Mel." he said, inclining his head to her. Then he offered her his arm, "Shall we go? My father doesn't very well tolerate tardiness to the table."

She smiled and took his elbow. He led her down the hallway. There was only a slight pause before Faramir spoke.

"Boromir wanted me to extend his apologies that he could not be here to attend you himself. He has many urgent matters that require his attention."

Mel felt her heart sink, "Yeah, I guess he does."

She had tried to sound nonchalant about it, but Faramir glanced down at her anyway, "He seemed quite distraught about it. He did everything he could to be here."

Mel nodded, but she kept her eyes on her feet. She should have known. There was no reason for Faramir to try so hard. She was second fiddle. She knew it. She had known it was going to happen for a while. But it still hurt.

"My brother and I have not had much time to talk together since his return, we have both been so very busy, so I hope you don't mind if I take this opportunity to satisfy a little of my curiosity."

It took a minute for Mel to realize that Faramir was trying to ask her something in some sort of round about way, "Lord Faramir, you may ask me any question you want, but I can't guarantee I'll answer it." She looked up at him and smiled.

He returned her smile, "I suppose I can ask for nothing more than that." He paused while he considered his options, "Where do you come from? Originally. I know it is not Rivendell or any land of the North. Your speech is so odd, I have never heard it's like."

"And you probably never will again." Mel answered, "I come from somewhere very far away, too far away to be on any map."

"Is that all the answer I am to receive?"

"It's the only answer I can give you."

Faramir's eyes sparkled and he chuckled, "Boromir was right, you are a riddle."

It was Mel's turn to laugh, "If your brother calls me a riddle, you have no chance at all. He knows more about me than any other person in the world."

"And why is my brother privy to knowledge that I am not?" Faramir said it playfully, but Mel felt her face fall and she looked away.

"Because he was the first," Mel said softly, "The very first person I could trust. Even when I thought he was lost, he proved me wrong, in the best possible way. And when I thought I was lost, he proved me wrong again."

Mel looked up and smiled at Faramir's puzzled expression, "There's a riddle for you, Faramir. See if you can figure that one out."

Faramir smiled and shook his head, "You pose a great challenge to me, Mel. I will try not to disappoint."

Mel looked up and realized that they were standing outside the doors to the dining hall. Her hand tightened reflexively around Faramir's arm. He looked down at her and then reached over and patted her hand.

"He is not so very frightening, Mel." He murmured, "My father is a stern man, proud and stubborn, but he means you no harm, I assure you."

Mel tried to give him a reassuring smile, "I know." she said, but she was sure she didn't sound very convincing.

Faramir gave her a kind smile, then reached over and pushed open one of the doors. They were instantly bombarded with the sound of arguing voices.

"She serves no purpose here!" a voice cried out, "You both know this my lords! She serves only as a distraction, nothing more."

"What would you have had me do, Hurin?" It was Boromir that spoke now, in a tone much quieter, but no less heated, "I could not in good conscious leave her outside the city walls."

"With all due respect, Lord Boromir, I believe your judgment might be a bit clouded."

"Are you accusing my son of neglecting his duties, Lord Hurin?" Denethor spoke now, his tone clipped and dangerous, "Since his return, he has worked tirelessly to prepare our city for battle while you quibble over one harmless girl. If anyone is distracted by her, it is you."

"My lord, I see no reason to keep one woman here when all the other ladies have been sent away."

"Haven't you heard, Lord Hurin?" Faramir said, finally revealing their presence, despite Mel's strong resistance, "Mel is no ordinary lady."

Boromir and Denethor immediately came to their feet. Hurin was already standing, his hands on the table, but he straightened when he saw them.

"Lady Melody," he said grudgingly inclining his head toward her, "Forgive me, I did not know you were here."

_So you were planning on stabbing me in the back?_ Mel thought, but she bit her tongue to keep the flood of harsh words from tumbling out of her mouth. She took a breath and returned Lord Hurin's nod before she chose to speak.

"Please continue, Lord Hurin," she said, "Don't let me keep you from making your point."

The lord looked startled by her response. Mel didn't know what the men had been expecting, but she could see Boromir smiling at her, so she assumed she'd done well. She still felt angry at Boromir though so she ignored him.

Lord Hurin quickly recovered himself, "I was simply trying to understand the logic of your presence here, my lady. I understand that you have certain... abilities that others believe might be an asset to us. But I fail to see the relevance. How exactly does your particular talent relate to battle tactics?"

Mel swallowed. His concerns were much more elaborate echoes of her conversation with Denethor the night before.

"_I am interested to know how you think your power could possibly make a difference against the army that even now rises against us."_

The question irked her, mostly because she wanted an answer to it herself. She wanted to help. She had absolutely no intention of hiding in her room for the rest of her time here. She was going to be of some service and the only real skill she possessed seemed to be of no use at all. How was talking to trees supposed to help defend an entire city?

When she thought of the trees, they responded to her from outside the Citadel, a low wordless murmur, only occasionally peppered with the sound of her name.

_"Calenhiril... Calenhiril... Calenhiril..."_

And suddenly she knew what she was going to do.

"The trees." she whispered. All four of the men looked at her curiously, but she smiled confidently, "Your own trees will defend your city, my lord."

"And how will they do that? Will they take up arms and march out to meet the oncoming slaughter?" Hurin asked, contempt dripping from his well-mannered voice.

"No," she replied, smiling now, "But they can guard your gates at least."

* * *

A/N: What does Mel have in mind now? I guess we'll find out next chapter... Oh look, double chapter! :) You're welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Mel spent most of the luncheon outlining her plan for the men. She was forced to reveal a bit more about the battle to come, that the army would come with a machine capable of breaking down the gates of the city.

"Impossible," Hurin muttered, his face sour, "The gates of Minas Tirith have never been breached."

"They will be." Mel said, "You can count on it. But I think I can buy us some more time."

"How?" The question came from Boromir who looked slightly concerned. Mel felt her irritation at him grow when she saw that look. She wanted to tell him she could take care of herself, there was no need for him to concern himself, but that felt petty. So instead she answered him in the most confident tone she could muster.

"Do you remember when the crows passed over us and the tree and bushes grew to hide us?"

Boromir nodded.

"I can cover the gates the same way. It's not much," she said, looking at Hurin as she said it, "But it would be another obstacle the enemy would have to overcome. It might buy us some time."

"Time for what?" Denethor asked, "What will we be waiting for, Lady Melody?"

Mel dropped her eyes to her hands, "Rohan, my lords. Even now they muster the Rohirrim to come to our aid. But if I can prevent the loss of even a few of our number I feel it is worth the effort."

"Melody," Boromir said, and the concern in his voice made her eyes flash up in anger. He didn't seem to notice, "The trees will not stand against this army. There will be much damage."

"I know that." Mel said, trying to keep her voice from turning into a snap, "And they know it too. They want to help."

It was true. Ever since the idea had entered her mind, the trees had been clamoring to start, thrilled at the idea of contributing to the preservation of the city. Their city. They loved it as much as the men that lived within its walls. They were willing to sacrifice themselves for it.

_**"We are not afraid."**_ Mel said and her voice held that powerful quality that made the platters at the table tremble with it. The words echoed in the empty hall and left a reverent silence in it's wake. Mel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling back the power she felt expanding in her chest. She didn't know what she could do with that power, but she had a feeling she was about to find out.

She opened her eyes and looked at Denethor, "Please, my lord Steward, let me do this."

Hurin snorted, "It is a pointless effort. Trees cannot possibly stand against the armies of Sauron."

"Perhaps," Denethor said thoughtfully and Mel held her breath. If he didn't give her permission to do this, she was fairly certain she was going to do it anyway, it was just going to be much more difficult. Denethor looked at her and then a smile pulled at his lips, "But I agree with Lady Melody. If we can prevent any loss of life, it is not pointless. You may proceed, Lady Melody."

Mel had to replay the response before she could believe it. She had been expecting a fight. This was strangely easy. She smiled at the Steward and for the first time it was completely genuine, if a little surprised, "Thank you, my lord."

"Lord Hurin, as Keeper of the Keys you will be sure that Lady Melody receives complete cooperation and anything she may require to complete this task." Denethor gave Hurin a look that made Mel shiver. Hurin scowled, which was more than Mel would have done, but he nodded.

"Yes, my lord Steward."

Mel sighed and looked around the table. Boromir was smiling at her now, but he still looked slightly concerned. Mel felt curiosity tinge her irritation. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head at her ever so slightly. Whatever it was, they weren't discussing it now. That was fine, she didn't need his worry anyway. She was perfectly fine.

She stayed silent for much of the rest of the meal as Faramir and then Boromir gave their father reports on what they had been doing to prepare. Mel didn't understand most of it, but it sounded like they had been very busy since this morning. She noticed that there was no mention of the incident in the practice field, but it didn't matter. If she saw Vanion again, she would take care of it, it was as simple as that.

The only way Mel knew that the meal was over was when Faramir stood and moved to pull out her chair for her. She started and realized that she had been staring into her soup bowl, absently moving bits of meat around with her spoon, for God only knew how long. She got to her feet and Faramir offered her his arm, she supposed to lead her back to her room.

"Lord Faramir." Hurin stepped over to where they stood, "If I may be permitted to accompany the lady, I believe we have things to discuss."

Faramir looked reluctant to leave Mel with Hurin and honestly Mel was not looking forward to his company, but she knew it was an inevitability. And Gandalf's words were echoing in her head.

_"Do not be discouraged by Lord Hurin's skepticism. He only seeks to protect that which he holds most dear."_

Mel patted Faramir's arm and smiled at him, then she even managed a smile at Lord Hurin, "Of course, my lord." she said politely.

He didn't offer his arm, but he bowed slightly and gestured toward the door with an open hand, inviting her forward. She stepped off the raised dais and followed him out the door.

Lord Hurin set a slow pace and didn't wait long before speaking, "Have you given any thought to what your... project will require?"

Mel still detected a hint of disdain in his voice, but she ignored it. She knew he wasn't a fan, she was lucky he was asking at all. "Time mostly. I'll need to visit the gates. The trees will need help to grow so much so quickly. I'll need to be there."

"How long?"

"I don't know." she answered, truthfully, "But there is something I have thought of and it will really require your help."

Mel looked at Hurin. He was watching her intently, but he didn't look hostile, merely curious.

"Once the gates are closed, it won't be possible to reopen them quickly. We will need to evacuate the levels we're sealing off."

Hurin's brow creased as he thought about that, "It will take time." He muttered, almost to himself, "How many gates will be sealed?"

She couldn't remember exactly how far Sauron's army got after they breached the main gate. "At least the first two," Mel replied, "More if I can manage it."

Hurin considered that carefully, his face now void of any disdain or mistrust, his whole mind calculating facts and figures about his city that Mel couldn't even begin to guess. "The first two levels will need to be cleared then. It will take men to organize such a large evacuation. Even though most of our citizens have retreated from the city, there are a large number that remain and many will be loath to leave their homes. I will have to speak to the garrisons and see how many soldiers can be spared for the effort."

Mel nodded, "I understand."

"When did you plan to begin work on this?"

Mel shook her head, "As soon as possible. I was actually hoping to go down and visit the gates this afternoon, get an idea of what I'm working with."

"I can help with that."

The new voice made them jump. Boromir came striding down the corridor after them. He stopped and bowed slightly to Hurin, who returned the gesture.

"I would be happy to take Melody to the gates." Boromir said, with a grin in her direction. It took a minute for Mel to remember that she was supposed to be angry at him.

"I wouldn't want to take you away from your other duties, Lord Boromir." she replied, in a voice that was slightly colder than she had meant it to be. It froze Boromir's grin on his face.

"Yes," Hurin agreed, too quickly, "We really can't spare you, my lord, for such a petty task. Perhaps one of the pages..."

"I'm free this afternoon." Boromir said, turning his eyes on Hurin none too kindly, "And Lady Melody is a guest in my house. I shall be the one to attend to her, my lord Hurin."

Hurin almost looked like he would argue, but instead he bowed his head begrudgingly, "As you wish, my lord." He turned to Mel and bowed to her as well, with much less animosity than Mel would have expected, "I will have a report ready for you this evening, Lady Melody. Good day."

Then he spun and strode off down the corridor. Boromir watched him go and shook his head.

"Ill-tempered old man." he grumbled.

"He means well." Mel countered, still watching him until he disappeared around a corner, "He just doesn't understand."

Boromir looked at her strangely, "Don't tell me you two have bonded in the five minutes you were out of my sight."

Mel rolled her eyes, "Don't be ridiculous. He doesn't like me. But I understand why and I think we're trying to work through it."

Boromir nodded. They had absently started walking down the corridor again. Mel wondered if he really was free this afternoon. It seemed unlikely. He was Captain of the White Tower and they were about to go to war. How would he manage to get an afternoon off?

"I'm sorry I haven't been with you Melody." Boromir's voice had become very somber.

"It's ok." Mel answered automatically, but Boromir shook his head.

"It isn't, though you are kind to say so. I've brought you here, to a strange city unlike any place you've ever known, and left you alone. I should be with you."  
"You have a lot to do." Mel said, "And I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She put particular emphasis on that last part. The humiliation of this morning still stung.

Boromir nodded, "I do not doubt that."

_Obviously, you do._ Mel thought, but she said nothing. They were silent for a moment again. Boromir broke the silence again, but this seemed much more difficult for him to say.

"I... I suppose I should also... I apologize for the scene this morning."

Mel stiffened involuntarily. Boromir quickly continued.

"It was unfair of me to interfere in your match. Believe me when I say that my men were none too happy that I stepped in and I understand their point. I injured your pride and I am truly sorry for that."

Mel held back a snort and she wouldn't look at him.

"Melody, I want to explain something to you. My involvement this morning was not a reflection on my faith in your abilities."

This time Mel did snort, but she didn't speak.

Boromir sighed, "I know you are unhappy with me. You made that perfectly clear. But on my honor, I did not mean to hurt you in anyway. I was trying to protect you."

"I didn't need your protection!" she blurted out, "I had him!"

"I was protecting you from yourself!"

That made Mel stop, "What?"

Boromir rubbed his hands over his face, as if he could rub away the frustration that had bled into his voice, "I didn't want you to kill him. Mel, you've never killed anyone before. I know, I can see it in your eyes. You've killed orcs, of course, but that's different, they barely count as intelligent creatures, but to kill a man..." He sighed and he wouldn't meet her eyes, "Killing a human being changes you, forever. You can't take it back."

It finally occurred to Mel that Boromir had killed men before. It was a strange realization to have, something that should have been so obvious, but it had never occurred to her.

Boromir sighed again, "I know it was a foolish thing to prevent. Vanion is a worm and deserves every horrible thing you could have done to him. If there was any man I would have been happy was dead, it would have been him. And..." he paused, "I can't keep you from it forever. You might very well have to kill men in the days to come. But when I saw you, rushing toward him, I..."

He stopped, as if he weren't able to finish his thought. Mel hadn't thought of any of this. All she had thought about was her injured pride. If Boromir had let her go, she would have killed Vanion. He was right, Vanion was a worm and if there was anyone that she thought might deserve to die, it would be him. But it was easy for her to say that now, now that the opportunity was no longer in front of her. How would she have felt afterward? The truth was, she had no idea. But she found that she wasn't quite as angry at Boromir for stopping her.

Without thinking she reached out and touched his hand. He looked down and stared at her hand with a look that Mel couldn't figure out. He looked confused. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd touched him. He brushed his fingers over hers, then pulled away staring forward again, his voice now carefully guarded.

"I understand, of course, if you're still angry with me..."

"No." Mel interrupted, pulling her hand back and clasping her hands together in front of her, "No, I'm not angry. You're right. I shouldn't have let him get to me like that. It won't happen again."

She'd forgotten for a moment where they were. Of course he couldn't act the same as they had before, out in the wild. What if someone saw them and got the wrong idea? He couldn't risk a scandal, she was sure, especially now. How could she have been so stupid?

He finally looked at her and he still looked confused. What was with him? She got too close and he pulled away, she pulled back and he acted confused. One of them was seriously turned around and she wasn't sure which of them it was.

"So," she said, breaking the awkward silence, "Gates? Main gate would probably be the place to start don't you think?"

Boromir shook his head and smiled, apparently content to let her change the subject, "Very well," He offered her his arm, which she took, trying to keep her heart from stuttering. Would she ever be able to touch him without feeling this ache in her chest? She just wasn't sure...

* * *

Boromir felt it again when Melody took his arm, that warm tingle where she touched him. He'd felt it when her fingers had brushed his. It made his hair stand on end and his breath quicken. It was a strangely pleasant sensation, something he had never felt before. But it was so new, so foreign. Was this some new aspect of her power? It seemed to be the only explanation. But then, why did it seem that she felt nothing? And no one else seemed to suffer the same effect. Perhaps his brother had experienced it when he'd brought her to luncheon and simply had not mentioned it to him yet. He would ask at the first opportunity. Perhaps between them they could determine what was causing this, his heart racing, his breath shallow, his mind hazy except for the sharp feeling of her touch on his arm. Yes, he would ask his brother as soon as possible. In the mean time, he would keep these strange feelings to himself. There was no need to trouble Melody. After all, it wasn't unpleasant. No, not unpleasant at all.

* * *

A/N: Alright, I know, I took forever. I'll try not to take quite so long from now on, but my life has taken a surprising turn that doesn't give me a lot of free time :) I will do my best as always though. Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: My dearest and most faithful fans, my most sincere apologies for leaving you hanging like I have for the past… well, forever. I am pleased to announce that I am back and ready for hopefully, at least semi-regular action! I plan to do some work on my timeline over the next few months, so chapters might come slowly at first, but I guarantee you that this story is not dead (despite all evidence to the contrary). Thank you so much for all of your support and I hope that you will stay with me for just a little bit longer and see this long journey through to its conclusion. Thank you again for all of your kind words and encouragement. And now, without further ado…

**Chapter 8**

At the gate of the Citadel they took a sharp left, rather than continuing straight down the main road as Mel had thought they would.

"Where are we going?" she asked Boromir.

"The stables." he replied without blinking, "It will be much faster if we ride to the first level on horseback."

Mel looked at him, then looked down at the dress she was still wearing, then back up at him.

"Uh, Boromir?" He looked down at her and she fluttered her skirt at him, "How am I gonna ride in this?"

He looked perplexed by her question, then a grin slowly spread across his face, "Why, Melody, don't tell me you've never ridden sidesaddle."

Sidesaddle? Was he serious? She glanced around to make sure they were alone, then she leaned in and hissed, "Where I come from, it was never an issue!"

Boromir laughed heartily, "Well, my dear Melody, where I come from, it is the only way some ladies ever learn to ride. Come," he said, taking her arm and gently leading her down the side street, "It can't be too difficult. I'm sure if so many empty-headed court flowers can accomplish it, you shall have no trouble at all."

Mel felt flattered by his confidence, but was sincerely afraid that it was misplaced. But she let him lead her on. What choice did she have?

When they set foot in the stable, a familiar voice called out to them, "Mel! Boromir!"

They looked around and saw two small figures racing down the corridor toward them. Mel recognized Pippin instantly, but the boy chasing him was unfamiliar to her.

"Pippin, wait!" the boy called, but Pippin ignored him, skidding to a halt in front of them and almost causing the boy to run into his back.

"Look!" Pippin said, throwing back his cloak and revealing a new shirt, with the white tree of Gondor on a field of blue, "Like it? I'm part of the Citadel guard now!"

"Pippin..." The boy behind him hissed, his eyes darting from the hobbit to Boromir and back, "I'm, I'm sorry, my lord, my lady, he doesn't yet understand..."

Boromir waved his hand dismissively, "It is no trouble lad, this halfling is a dear friend to me. What is your name, boy?"

"Bergil." Mel whispered, the name finally coming to her. The boy's head jerked up and he stared at her. She smiled, "Bergil, son of Beregond, right?"

The boy seemed to realize he was staring and dropped his eyes, "Yes, my lady."

Mel was pleased with herself, but she also felt concerned. He was younger than she had imagined him to be. Too young to be in a war. Pippin put his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"It's alright, Bergil," Pippin said merrily, "Boromir and Mel are alright."

"As a matter of fact," Boromir said, "We were about to go down to the main gate and take a look around. Would you both care to join us?"

Pippin's eyes lit up, "Of course!"

But, Bergil looked distressed and undecided, "Begging your pardon, Lord Boromir, but..." The boy paused, one of his toes digging into the dirt.

"If you have other obligations, Master Bergil, don't feel the need to shirk them on my account." Boromir said, "Fulfill your duties, if you have them."

Bergil looked relieved, "Thank you, my lord."

"Another time, perhaps." Boromir added.

Bergil nodded, "Of course sir, thank you sir." Then the boy bowed and scurried off.

Pippin watched him go, then shrugged, turning back to Mel and Boromir, "So, when are we leaving?"

"As soon as we can find horses, Master Peregrin." Boromir said. He moved forward and started talking to one of the stable hands. Pippin sidled closer to Mel and grinned up at her.

"So?" he said, leaning in conspiratorially, "What's the plan?"

She looked down at him, perplexed by the mischievous glint in his eye, "Plan?"

"You know," he said, looking pointedly at her hand and her ring, "The plan! Are we raising a tree army or what?"

Mel laughed, "Pippin, there are a lot of things that I'm capable of, a tree army on such short notice isn't one of them."

He looked slightly disappointed, "Well, then, what are you going to do?"

She squeezed his shoulder affectionately, "You'll see, Pippin, don't worry."

That seemed to satisfy him a little. The stable hand appeared leading two horses. One was of course, Deor, snorting and pawing at the ground restlessly. The other horse was quite a bit smaller, bay colored and wearing the dreaded sidesaddle. Mel eyed it warily. It looked much like an English saddle, something that she wasn't a huge fan of to begin with. But this had a strange protrusion sticking out of the left hand side, curved slightly up. Mel realized it must be a leg rest. She looked over the rest of the saddle, as the stable boy handed her the reins, and considered her mounting strategy.

"May I help you, Lady Melody?" said Boromir, suddenly beside her, his eyes sparkling and a small grin, not quite a smirk, on his face. Mel tossed her head haughtily.

"Thank you, Lord Boromir, but I don't believe that will be necessary."

She then took hold of the saddle, put her right foot in the stirrup and yanked herself up. Or rather, she tried to. Unfortunately, she didn't realize that her foot had tangled with her skirt until she was in the air. When she pulled, her tangled foot pulled on her dress and tugged her loose of the stirrup. She felt herself falling and braced herself for a painful impact with the ground. But instead she was swept up and suspended above the ground, instinctively throwing her arms around Boromir's neck as he caught her. She looked up and saw his sparkling eyes and her heart stuttered. Her whole body tingled with his touch. She had to remind herself to breathe. It felt like time stood still. All the humor drained from his face and he seemed to search her eyes for something, but she couldn't imagine what it could be.

"Mel! Are you alright?"

Pippin's voice made Mel jump. She dropped her eyes down to him and smiled.

"Yeah, Pip, I'm ok. Just a little clumsy, I guess."

"Shall we try again, Lady Melody?" Boromir asked. His eyes were sparkling again and he was now officially smirking.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Boromir, and help me into this thing." Mel said, grudgingly.

Between the two of them, Mel was able to settle precariously into the saddle. Boromir then mounted Deor (with an ease that Mel observed with envy), pulled Pippin up behind him, and they were off. They walked slowly out of the stables, Mel following behind Boromir and trying to find her balance. The saddle was awkward to her and she felt very unstable, unable to find her center, something that was second nature to her when riding astride. Boromir must have realized her discomfort because he never led at a quicker pace than a walk, but he never said a word about it. Mel was glad. She would have been sorry to kill him.

They made their way precariously through the city streets. There were not many people and most seemed to be in a hurry to be anywhere but where they were. Their heads were down, shoulders hunched, not a glance to anything but the path in front of them. They looked so… tired. It made Mel's heart ache. These weren't her people, but it felt like they were. Of everywhere she'd been, of all the places she'd seen, this felt the most like home to her. It pained her to think of them so broken. She glanced up at the back of Boromir just so she wouldn't have to look at them any more. His shoulders were straight, his head held high. He looked strong and brave. That was what the people of Gondor should look like. Someday they would. She would do whatever she could to make sure it happened. And to make sure Boromir would see that day.

They worked their way through the levels and finally reached the main gate. It was open and there were people coming in and out. Mel looked around, horrified.

"Where are they going?" she asked.

Boromir glanced back at her, "Some are refugees from the eastern border coming for protection. Others are fleeing the city, heading for smaller settlements to the west and south."

Mel wanted to scream, to tell them to shut the gates immediately, to make it stop. But she kept it all back. These people had a right to decide what happened to them, to decide if they wanted to stay in the city. She had to give as many as she could the opportunity to make that choice.

They dismounted and left their horses in the care of a runner for the guard, a boy not much older than Bergil. Why did they all seem so young? They took a stairway up to the top of the outer wall looking out over the Pelennor fields. For a moment, Mel just stood and looked out over the plains. There were a few trees scattered in twos and threes over the grassland, but nothing substantial. She could hear them talking amongst themselves out there, muttering about the darkness and the affairs of Men. They were old trees with deep roots and even deeper apathy. There would be no help from them.

"Mel?"

Pippin's voice at her side brought Mel back to the wall and the city. She smiled down at his concerned face, reassuring him. Boromir's concerned look was not so easily turned aside, but he didn't say anything. Instead he turned and led them along the top of the wall, passing soldiers along the way that saluted Boromir and bowed to her. Boromir ignored them all and kept walking, but Mel couldn't bring herself to do that. Each soldier got a smile and a nod as she hurried past. Pippin was working too hard to keep up with Boromir's long strides to pay them much notice.

When they reached the edge of the gate, they were greeted by three familiar faces.

"Ah! Lord Boromir, Lady Melody!" cried Lord Duinhir, his two sons by his side, "We were just discussing the best position our archers might take along the wall."

Mel looked at Boromir, waiting for him to break the news to the lords that their men wouldn't be along this wall. But he only nodded to the three men.

"Of course, Lord Duinhir, don't let us keep you."

Lord Duinhir, glanced down and finally seemed to notice Pippin, "Ah, the Halfling! We had heard that one had come with the wizard, but we've not yet met."

"Peregrin Took, my lords." Pippin said cheerily, saluting the three men, easily three times his size.

Lord Duinhir took the time to introduce himself and his sons, "I see you wear the white tree on your breast, Peregrin Took." Duinhir said, "Wear it with honor."

Pippin nodded solemnly, "I will, sir."

The lord nodded, then bowed in the Gondorian fashion to Boromir and Mel, "We take leave, my lord."

Boromir returned the gesture and the three burly men walked back along the wall, talking amongst themselves. Boromir led Mel and Pippin on until they were standing directly above the main gate. When they finally paused, Mel leaned in and asked.

"Shouldn't we tell Lord Duinhir that his men can't be on this wall? They'll be trapped."

Boromir shook his head, "There are small doors on the walls leading from one level to another, specifically built for escape in case the walls should be breached. A small group of soldiers will have no problem moving up the levels as needed."

"Oh." Mel turned her attention to the huge metal gates below them. She didn't remember the gates being quite so formidable from what she'd seen and read. She now understood why Lord Hurin had seemed so skeptical when she'd told him that they would be breached. She wondered herself how the forces of Sauron would ever break through the thick sheets of metal.

Pippin stood on tiptoe next to her and peered over the wall at the trees below. She looked down at him and smiled. He was so much taller than he was when they'd started. She resisted the urge to ruffle his hair and turned to the trees he was studying.

"What are they saying, Mel?" he asked eagerly, his eyes searching the branches as if he might be able to decipher their speech if he just looked hard enough.

The two trees standing guard were large and tall, but not tall enough to quite reach the top of the gate. That would have to be addressed. It wouldn't be a simple thing with trees this size and age. She would have to help them. She had an idea how that might work and she hoped it would be enough.

Then the two trees spoke to her in unison.

_"Welcome, Calenhiril."_

The two voices echoed in her head, the same and yet somehow each distinct. It took a moment for Mel to get her bearings.

_"Thank you." _She responded. As she tried to think of something else to say, they spoke again.

_"We are The Sentries. We have kept watch over Minas Tirith and it's people for many seasons, and our ancestors for many seasons before that."_

"What are they saying?" Boromir murmured and Mel jumped. Boromir took her hand to steady her and the warmth from his touch spread through her body, but she pushed it aside. There were more important things right now. "What are they saying, Melody?" he asked again.

She looked back down at the trees, "They are are called The Sentries. They consider themselves the protectors of this city."

_"Tell the Son of Gondor that we will do what is necessary, Calenhiril. Tell him that we face the darkness with honor."_

She looked up and smiled at Boromir, "They know you." She said. His eyebrows went up and his eyes widened, "They say they'll face the darkness with honor. They call you the Son of Gondor."

Boromir's eyes flashed with recognition for a moment, but it passed so quickly that Mel wondered if it had ever really been there.

"Yeah, but can they help us?" Pippin asked, his eyes still fixed on the branches below him, "What are you going to do?"

She turned her attention back to the trees. She used her mind to convey a picture of what she was thinking, showing the interlocking branches and the extra height needed to cover the gates. She also used this method to tell them what would happen once this was accomplished, the army that was coming and the methods the enemy had at their disposal to use against them. If they were going to put their lives on the line, they deserved to know what they were up against. But the Sentries never even flinched at the images.

_"This growth will require more energy than we have to give, Calenhiril." _They said, still speaking in that resonating unison.

_"I know," _she said, _"Don't worry, we'll take care of that tomorrow."_

The trees gave way to this, _"As you wish, Calenhiril. We will do what we can in the meantime."_

She sighed and put her hands on the wall, "Thank you." She whispered, out loud.

"They agree?" Boromir asked.

She nodded, taking a step back from the wall.

Pippin looked up at her, then back down at the trees, then back at her, confused.

"Agreed to what? What's going on, Mel? What are you going to do?"

Boromir held Mel's gaze for a long time and Mel saw the concern and suspicion in his face. Somehow, he knew that what she was doing was dangerous. She didn't know how he knew, but he did. She did everything in her power to convey a sense of complete confidence and innocence of what he suspected. But that look in his eyes never wavered.

"Master Peregrin," Boromir said, his eyes never leaving Mel's face, "I'm giving you an assignment, starting immediately. You are to stay by Melody's side until her task is complete. If there is any sign that she might come to harm, you are to inform me at once, by any means necessary. Is that understood?"

Mel started to protest, "Boromir, that really isn't necessa…"

"Is that understood, Peregrin Took?" Boromir cut her off and looked down at Pippin with a fire that would have made a stout man cringe. Pippin stood a little straighter and nodded.

"Yes sir." He murmured.

Boromir brought his eyes back to Mel, "Good."

Then he turned and walked away with his head held high, like a man that had successfully won an argument. Mel watched him go and shook her head, smiling. Sometimes she wondered if he knew her at all.

Pippin watched Boromir disappear down the stairs leading to the ground level, then turned back to Mel, "Great. So now can you tell me what's going on?"

Mel looked down at him and laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Another chapter? Already? But it hasn't even been a month yet? Who is this woman and what has she done with our dear Azaldia?" Never fear, it's really me! :) I'm feeling generous, take advantage of it :P Enjoy!

**Chapter 9**

Mel woke the next morning, feeling anxious, but determined. The night before had been surprisingly productive. Dinner was once again a strategic affair, but she had felt much more a part of the planning process, which made her feel both elated and nervous. Denethor had even called upon her to report on her progress. There hadn't been much for her to report, but to her surprise Lord Hurin had spoken up for her, reporting on his own dealings with the Gondorian guard and that an evacuation of the lower levels was already in progress. Her plan was to be put into action at her earliest convenience.

Which she had decided should be this morning. Lord Hurin had not seen any problem with sealing off the main gate as soon as she arrived, since an engagement with the Enemy seemed imminent. So this morning, after her exercises, she was going to the main gates of Minas Tirith to seal off the city with a couple of trees. When she thought about it that way, it seemed silly, almost pointless. But at least it was something. It kept her from thinking about the other things that threatened. The things that haunted her dreams at night.

_The choice has been given to you…_

_ Mandos longs for your soul…_

_ Have her choose another… _

_ A life for a life…_

She got out of bed and dressed quickly in a pair of breeches and one of the tailored shirts that Loriel had made her. There was too much, too much to consider, too much to do. When she was given the choice, she would make it as she had made it before. There was nothing else she could do until then. But the nightmares and the memories continued to swirl in the back of her mind, despite her best efforts. She needed to occupy herself with something.

There was a knock on her door.

"Come in!" she called as she pulled on her shirt.

Loriel pushed her way in, bearing a tray of fruit, bread and cheese, "I thought you might like some breakfast before you begin your work today." She said, setting the tray on the dressing table.

Mel's stomach wasn't feeling very settled, but she grabbed an apple and stuffed it in her pocket just to be polite, "Thanks, I'll eat it after my exercises."

"Are you returning to the training grounds?" Loriel asked.

Mel strapped on her sword belt and checked to make sure it was placed well and secured, "Yep."

"Do you think Vanion will be there?"

Mel looked up, startled at the disdain that dripped from Loriel's lips when she spoke his name. And she didn't preface it with "Lord", something she always did. But the girl didn't let the disdain reach her face, impassive and calm as always.

"If he's there, I'll deal with it. I'm not going to let him intimidate me." Mel said.

Loriel dropped her eyes to the tray, "I admire your courage, Mel."

Mel grinned, "I don't know if it's courage as much as stubbornness."

Loriel grinned back, "Either way, I admire it."

Mel took her sword out, gave it a test swing, then sheathed it again, "Well, I'm out of here."

Loriel stopped, and looked as if she were considering something very seriously. Mel waited patiently until finally the girl just came out and said what she was thinking.

"Do you think it would be quite alright if I observed you in your exercises? I wouldn't disturb you at all."

Mel grinned, surprised, "I'd love that. Let's go."

Together the two women made their way through the corridors toward the training grounds. Even Loriel's silent company made Mel feel brighter. Her stomach still felt a little queasy, but she was able to at least fake a bouncier step and a cheerier disposition for Loriel's sake.

They reached the training grounds and Mel waited for the stunned silence and the stares. But nothing happened. They walked into the courtyard and everything continued with no more than a few cursory glances their direction. Mel felt a weight lift off her chest. She hadn't realized how much of her anxiety had rested on this one moment. She took a deep breath and strode confidently into the sunny training field. Loriel stood on the sides, leaning on one of the walls, her eyes bright.

Mel took her sword out and swung it a few times. She felt self conscious and conspicuous. It didn't feel right. Mel held her sword poised, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pictured the indifference of the men around her, seasoned soldiers, and allowed herself to feel the acceptance that those indifferent looks meant. She had passed a test. She had nothing to prove and nothing to fear.

She opened her eyes and began her morning exercises. She focused on her footing and her stance, her sword position and her balance. There was nothing else around her, only her sword and the ground under her feet. She let her mind empty of everything that she had to do; today, tomorrow, in the days to come. Nothing existed beyond this time. Step, thrust, parry, swing, step slide, reverse.

She brought herself around and ended her morning exercise, pulling her mind together and back into the world she had left behind so briefly, feeling as if everything had been pulled out and reorganized and now she could focus on what was really important and right in front of her. Her eyes focused again and she came face to face with a grinning Gondorian lord. Mel had to search her brain for a name to match the bright blue eyes.

"Lord Hirluin," she said finally, bowing awkwardly.

"So the rumors are true," Lord Hirluin said, "My men had told me of the woman who bested a Gondorian soldier in combat. I should have known it would be you, Lady Melody."

The fair-haired man unsheathed his sword and Mel instantly fell into a defensive crouch, her senses alert. He grinned and set himself into a defensive pose of his own.

"Would you care for a sparring partner, my lady?" he asked.

"If it pleases you, my lord." She said, surprised at how easily she had fallen into a formal vernacular, "I only hope that I prove a worthy opponent."

He smiled and then struck, but it was slow and easy. Mel blocked and struck back, no longer seeing a lord or even a man. She saw only an opponent, watching only for clues to his next moves, openings in his defenses. She wasn't angry or afraid. She was merely sparring, impersonal and indifferent as if she sparred with the air.

Lord Hirluin was able to defend against her counterattack and took a step back, reevaluating her with an approving glance. He had underestimated her, as everyone seemed to. She supposed it was natural, there didn't seem to be very many women with any interest in swords and fighting. Few had been in a position to need the skills as she had. Mel kept herself calm and watched the lord carefully, not allowing any pride to cloud her vision. He knew now that she was more than he had first thought and he would adjust accordingly. She would be given no quarter. He didn't do her the disservice of trying to taunt her or distract her. Instead they circled one another silently, each searching the other for the slightest blip, a chink in the armor that might be exploited.

Unfortunately, Mel was the first to provide that opportunity. She twisted her feet underneath her and for one brief moment her concentration was broken. That moment was all the time Lord Hirluin needed. He lashed out with lightening speed leaving Mel with only a fraction of a second to bring her sword about to parry his blow. He was on her before she had a chance to retaliate, striking again and again, forcing Mel to block and retreat. She could feel herself losing ground, both physically and mentally. She was losing this battle. But she could hear the voice of Orodion, the Warden of Eilenach, echoing in her mind.

_At least pretend you might win…_

She caught Hirluin's blade again, and this time tossed it aside, straightening herself and throwing out a swing that went wide, but caught the lord off-balance. She used that to get herself back on the offense, throwing blow after blow toward him, sending him retreating back across the practice field. She could feel her arms getting tired and knew she wouldn't be able to keep this up, but she shoved that thought to the deepest, darkest corner of her mind and kept going. But none of her blows were getting through and though he retreated, Hirluin showed no signs of tiring.

And then it happened. Her arm faltered and she brought her sword down short. Hirluin took the opportunity, caught her sword and with a flick of his wrist sent it flying out of her hands. His sword point came to a stop barely an inch from her chest. She stood perfectly still, trying not to breathe too deeply.

"Forfeit." She gasped, "I forfeit."

Hirluin, lowered his sword, then retrieved hers, handing her the hilt with a smile, "A worthy opponent indeed, Lady Melody. Well met."

Mel smiled, but was trying too hard to catch her breath to make any kind of reply. She sheathed her sword and bowed instead. Hirluin returned the bow, and Mel took a little comfort in the fact that he seemed to be breathing a little harder too.

"Mel!" She heard Pippin's voice and turned to see him running across the dirt, with such a grin across his face that it seemed to light her up from the inside. He skidded to a stop beside her.

Mel put her hand on Pippin's shoulder, "Lord Hirluin, may I present Peregrin Took of Tuckborough in the Shire."

"Ah, the halfling!" Hirluin said saluting Pippin, who returned the gesture, "I had heard rumor that one was among us. It is an honor to meet you, Master Peregrin."

"The honor is mine, sir." Pippin answered with politeness that made Mel glance down in surprise. He looked up and grinned at Mel.

"Shall we go, my lady?" The little hobbit said, offering his arm with a mischievous wink, "I believe we have an appointment."

Mel raised an eyebrow at him, then turned and bowed again to Lord Hirluin, "Forgive me, my lord, but it appears I have a previous engagement."

He bowed also, with a twinkle in his eyes that was a barely contained laugh, "Of course, Lady Melody, until out next meeting."

Then, instead of taking Pippin's offered arm (which barely came to her waist), she reached out and ruffled his curly hair, which made him cry out with indignation. Mel just laughed.

"Come on then, you little hooligan, let's see what kind of trouble we can get into."

She walked off the practice field and waved to Loriel, who smiled and waved back before she turned and hurried off in another direction.

"Who's she?" Pippin asked as they walked out of the practice field and through the Citadel.

"She's a friend." Mel said, "She wanted to watch me practice."

"It's just that most of the women and children have all left the city." Pippin said, "I wonder why she stayed behind."

Mel thought about it, "Well, this is her home, Pippin." She said finally, "When something bad happens, sometimes all you really want is to be home."

Pippin glanced up at her, "Is that what you want, Mel? Do you want to be home?"

She looked down at his face, so somber and grown up. Then she wrapped her arm around him and squeezed, "I am home, Pip."

And she wasn't just saying it to make the little hobbit feel better. It was true. She was home.

They reached the main gates and Lord Hurin was waiting for them.

"Are you ready, Lady Melody?" He asked, his face solemn, as if he were about to perform last rites over a body. Mel took a deep breath and nodded. Lord Hurin looked over the edge of the wall and signaled to a troop of soldiers waiting down below. They saluted, then went to work. Mel heard the sound of creaking metal as the large iron doors slowly rolled into place, coming together with a resounding clang. Lord Hurin turned back to Mel and bowed.

"The gate is yours, my lady." He said, then stepped back.

Mel took a deep breath, squeezed Pippin's shoulder one more time, then stepped up to the edge of the wall. She put both her hands on the stones of the wall and closed her eyes. Immediately, she could feel the essences of the Sentries, their twin consciouses rise up to greet her.

_"We are ready, Calenhiril."_

She took one deep breath and let it out slowly, _"Then let's do this."_

She reached down into herself and found the pulsing light that she knew was her life essence. She took a hold of that light and gently pulled it out as one long string. She could feel the Sentries essences twine and twist up toward her light, but they couldn't reach her. She stretched it out farther and farther, until finally she gave one more tug and her light touched the light of the trees. There was a flash of brilliance and Mel wasn't sure if it was real or just in her mind, but she felt the trees latch on to that energy and slowly she felt it course through her, down the wall and into the Sentries. She could feel the stretching of the branches, the unfolding of new leaves, the creak as the wood grew to fill the space between them. She heard human gasps behind her, but she ignored them, keeping her eyes shut, focusing on the picture in her mind, of the lattice work that would bring strength and structure to the growth of the Sentries, that would cover the gates of Minas Tirith and keep her people safe for just a little while. The light inside her pulsed with the beating of her heart and she pushed it out further, filling ever nook and cranny of the trees below her, forcing them out and then inward, shaping the branches into what they needed to be. She could feel them weaving in and out, braiding together to form strong ropes that were then woven over the cold gates of metal, a living shield. But there was so much space to fill and so little to fill it with. She could feel her knees begin to tremble with every pulse of light.

"Mel?"

A tiny voice in the distance, the voice of a small creature, so insignificant, pierced her thoughts. No, not insignificant. Pippin.

"Mel, are you all right?"

No, she couldn't stop, she wasn't finished. There was too much left to be done. She could feel the holes in the wall of wood and she rushed to fill them with braided branches, weaving an impenetrable wall. It had to be stronger. She had to hold on.

"Mel?"

The tiny voice sounded frightened. No, Pippin sounded frightened. But she couldn't reassure him, she had to concentrate, there was too much to be done. And she could feel her light fading with each pulse. There was too much…

She took the light that she had left and gave one final mighty shove.

* * *

Boromir woke that morning feeling anxious. This was the morning that Melody would attempt a feat that, despite her reassurances, he was sure would be dangerous, and he could not be there with her. He had sent Pippin in his stead, but truth be told, he was not confident that the little hobbit had what was needed to keep Melody out of harm's way, especially when she was determined to throw herself into it. But there was nothing for it. His father had insisted that he make certain Lord Golasgil's men were armed and ready for battle, despite their small numbers and poor supplies.

Anfalas wasn't known as a rich community, mostly farmers and a few tradesmen. But they were loyal enough and came ready to defend their country and people from the Enemy and that was all the encouragement Boromir needed. He could equip them and prepare them as best he could, but their own courage would see them much farther than any training he could provide. He was discussing the strategies that would be employed with Lord Golasgil, when his anxiety was realized.

"Boromir! Boromir!"

Pippin's panicked voice brought him to a halt in the middle of a sentence. He turned and grabbed the young hobbit as he ran, jerking him about and grabbing his attention.

"What is it, Pippin? What has happened?" His voice was calm, but his heart was pounding.

"It's Mel," Pippin gasped, "She collapsed. I tried…"

But he didn't here the boy's excuses. He was already running, the echoes of Golasgil's protests and Pippin's shorter footfalls fading behind him.

_Not her. Please…_

He didn't know how he reached the gate, he didn't remember what route he took to get there, but in the span of what felt like seconds and a hundred lifetimes, he was there. But Melody was already sitting up, though she was still sitting on top of the wall. He took the steps two at a time and knelt beside her. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Oh, Boromir, what are you doing here?" she asked, in a tone of innocence that did not fool him for one instant. She was pale and when he touched her cheek she was cold as ice.

"She did it." He heard Lord Hurin whisper from somewhere behind him, "I didn't think she would, but she did it."

He ignored the old man. Instead he took one of Melody's hands in his own and brushed her hair back from her face, "Pippin came for me, Melody." He said.

She rolled her eyes, "Silly hobbit, I'm fine! No reason to worry."

He was not at all convinced. She still had not made any effort to get up and her hand trembled in his.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out an apple, "I just missed breakfast, that's all. Nerves made me queasy." She took a bite of the apple and grinned as if this was the solution to all, "Now help me up, Boromir. I wanna see."

He didn't care for the casual regard she gave to her situation, but he put his arm around her waist and pulled her gently to her feet. She wobbled for a minute, but she soon steadied herself. Then they looked over the edge of the wall.

What Boromir saw astonished him. It was like a green wall had been built where the gates once had stood. The trunks of the Sentries climbed the wall, arching over the gates and entwining the branches in such a way that one could not tell where one tree ended and another began. There was no gap in the wood, and it was thick and solid. Boromir looked at Melody. She was smiling.

"Just as it should be." She whispered.

"Lady Melody, please, if you would come with us."

Behind them stood two ladies of the Healing House, dressed in white and looking quite distressed. Melody rolled her eyes.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine." She said.

"But my lady!" said one of the healers, "You suffered trauma to the extent that you fainted! You are weak and require treatment."

"Weak, my ass." Melody muttered under her breath. Aloud she said, "I assure you, ladies, that I am quite all right. I just need rest, which I'm just as likely to get in my own room."

"I agree with them, Melody." Boromir said, in a tone that he desperately hoped would brook no argument. If he didn't speak now, she might not get the treatment he was sure she needed, "It would be best if you went with the healers."

Melody's eyes flashed with a furious fire and she stepped out from his touch, standing tall and proud on her own, "Well then, I guess it's a good thing I'm not under your command, Lord Boromir." She tossed her head haughtily, "I'm going to my room to rest. Good day to all of you."

She then turned on her heel and marched away. Boromir watched her go, more confused than ever. He had only wanted to help her. Why had she pulled away from him? He turned and leaned against the wall, looking down at the Sentries, now proper guardians of the city, and he envied them, not for their strength, but that they comprehended the mind of Melody Calenhiril, something he was sure he would never do.

* * *

The way she had flounced off, you would have thought Mel was perfectly all right, just as she'd claimed. But it didn't take long for Mel to realize that she definitely wasn't all right. She hitched a ride up the levels on a horse drawn cart carrying the belongings of a small family, and finished off the apple she had put in her pocket that morning. When they reached the Citadel, she hopped off the back of the cart and immediately stumbled. The world spun around her for a minute, but it quickly steadied. She pulled herself upright, and tried to walk into the Citadel with dignity. But by the time she reached the corridor with her room, she was seeing black spots and holding on to the wall to keep herself upright. She was breathing heavily, though she'd never gone faster than a walk and her whole body screamed in protest of any movement. But she pushed on, reminding herself of the journey she'd taken with the Fellowship, how hard it had been and how far she had gone, how she had pushed herself past the limit of her own endurance and lived.

_You're just getting soft, Mel, _she told herself, _All this city living is making you flabby. You can do this. This is nothing._

She finally reached her room and managed to push open her door. Then with the last of her strength, she crawled across the floor, pulled herself into bed and immediately fell asleep


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Boromir didn't know how long he stood on the wall, but it was long enough that the crowd that had gathered for Melody's display had disbanded and he was alone. So when he heard his brother's voice call out to him, it surprised him. Faramir climbed up to the wall and took a look at the work that had been done on the gates.

"Well," he said, "The woman certainly delivers what she promises. That should withstand quite a beating when the Enemy comes calling."

Boromir grunted and looked away. He didn't want to think about the wall or the gates or what they had cost Melody.

Faramir watched him closely for a moment, then looked out across the plains, "Is something troubling you, brother? We've hardly spoken since you've come home."

Boromir knew that his brother was trying to get at something, but he ignored it for now. He waved a hand at the gates, or where the gates should have been, "This blasted thing." He said, scowling, "Damn nuisance. Next thing you know, she'll be wanting to do all the gates this way. She was already talking about doing another."

Faramir nodded, "That might not be a bad idea."

Boromir glared furiously at his brother, "Do you know what this did to her? It took everything she had! When will she stop? When she's dead? Damn foolish, stubborn girl, who doesn't know when to just stay out of the way!"

Faramir watched him closely as he said this and that just made Boromir even more angry. He turned and started to walk away, but Faramir grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You know I didn't mean any harm, Boromir." He said calmly, "You know I would never want harm to come to Mel."

Boromir closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He did know that. His brother had a good heart and would never want harm to come to anyone.

"Forgive me." Boromir said, after a moment, "I don't know what has come over me. I just…"

"You're worried about her." Faramir said.

"The woman confounds me!" Boromir exclaimed, turning back to the wall, "She doesn't make sense! Things were so much simpler before…"

Faramir perked up, looking suddenly very interested, "Before what?"

Boromir closed his eyes and sighed, "Before I lost myself. Before I became what _he_ wanted me to be."

He opened his eyes and stared out at the flaming mountain of Mordor, wishing with everything in him that he could reach out and swat the Enemy away, to erase his very existence from the history of the world.

"It seems that ever since then, we've been…" He searched for the right words, "Playing a game of strategy, only I don't know all the rules. I keep moving my pieces across an unfamiliar board, but I feel as if I lose more ground every day."

Faramir suddenly laughed which made Boromir look up. He wasn't aware that he had said anything funny and apparently Faramir realized quickly that his brother did not get the joke because he stifled his laughter.

"I'm sorry, brother, I'm sorry." He said, still smirking, "It just occurs to me that you compare everything in your life to a battle, even things such as this."

Boromir still found himself confused, "Things such as what?"

That made Faramir really stop laughing. He searched Boromir's face, as if to make sure that he wasn't joking.

"You…You haven't realized yet, have you?" Faramir said softly, his face suddenly gentle and kind, while Boromir still looked at his brother, perplexed and waiting for the revelation of what Faramir could possibly be talking about.

Faramir shook his head and smiled, "Oh Boromir, then I truly am sorry. I never thought you wouldn't recognize it." He put his hand on Boromir's shoulder and squeezed, "Boromir," he murmured, "You love her."

For just a moment, Boromir stared at his brother, trying to comprehend what he had said. Love her? He loved her? It wasn't possible. He had felt desire for a woman before, more than once. He knew what it was to feel that. He felt something else entirely for Melody. Something he had never felt before, which was why he didn't know how to define it. It wasn't desire. It was need. He needed to be with her, he needed to take care of her, he needed to keep her safe. That was why he had brought her here, because he needed to make sure that she was safe and cared for. Because she belonged here. With him. Because… He needed her. Because he loved her.

Faramir smiled as what should have been obvious to Boromir suddenly became clear. He loved her. He loved Melody.

"I love her." He said, testing the words, hearing them aloud, "Faramir, I love her."

His brother grinned and slapped him on the back, "I know, brother. Everyone knows. I'm almost certain that you are the last person in the city to work it out. Except, of course, our dear Mel, for whom I now feel a great deal of sympathy that she's had to put up with your blindness for so long."

Boromir now felt a squeezing panic in his chest. He loved Melody. But how did she feel? What if he'd lost her before he'd realized she was there to lose?

"Faramir," he said, grabbing his brother's arm, "Have you spoken to her? What does she say?"

His brother shook his head and put his hand over Boromir's, "Brother, the heart of a woman is a strange and complex labyrinth. But if you wish to know Mel's feelings for you, I think you need only ask. In fact, I believe that may be just the move she's been waiting for you to make."

He had to see her. He had to tell her before he lost her. How could he have been so foolish? It had been right there, all along, and he had not the mind to see it.

"I must go to her."

Faramir took a step back clearing his way, still grinning like a child. Before he went, Boromir took his brother's hand in a strong grip.

"Thank you, Faramir." He said.

Faramir smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, "Name one of your many children after me. Now go."

Boromir smiled and left the wall, headed for the Citadel.

* * *

When Mel woke, it was dark. She felt disoriented. Hadn't it just been morning? What time was it? She slowly sat up in bed and she felt all her muscles tense. She was stiff and sore. She remembered that she had collapsed, she must have bruised herself up. There was a lamp on her bedside table, and after a little bit of fiddling she finally figured out how to light it. At the end of the bed was a covered tray and she felt her stomach trying to gnaw it's way out of her abdomen. All she'd had to eat was an apple. She crawled across the bed and lifted the lid on the tray. There was a bowl of soup, a hunk of bread and some fresh fruit. The soup was lukewarm, so either it was well past lunchtime and almost time for supper, or it was well past supper time and she'd slept quite a bit longer than she should have. Either way, the soup and bread were quickly consumed before she even noticed the carefully folded piece of white paper with her name delicately inscribed on it. She grabbed the note and another apple that she munched as she read.

"My Dear Mel," it read, "I came to you at lunch and supper time, but you slept so well that I did not wish to wake you."

So she had slept through supper. That was unfortunate. She read on.

"I hope that this tray suffices for your supper. If you require anything else, the kitchen should be able to supply what you need. Feel free to avail yourself of whatever you might find. The Steward sends his best wishes to you for a speedy recovery and wishes to congratulate you on your wonderful success at the main gates. I have seen it, Mel, it is glorious! I hope to find you well rested in the morning. Regards, Loriel."

At the bottom of the note, scribbled as if it were an afterthought, she had put, "Lord Boromir wishes to see you as soon as you are able. He seemed to think it quite urgent. -L"

Now that just seemed odd. What could be so urgent that Boromir would make Loriel put it in her note? Mel racked her brain and couldn't come up with anything that might be so important that it couldn't wait until morning. Besides, it was late, he was probably asleep by now.

Mel finished her apple and laid back down, thinking that she would fall asleep again. But her all-day nap had done it's work too well. She remained stubbornly awake. After laying in bed for an indeterminable amount of time, she finally huffed and swung her feet to the floor. She was still in her rumpled clothes from that morning, so she quickly changed into one of the less ornate dresses that had been commissioned for her, a black gown with black thread embroidery. She hadn't liked it when she'd first seen it, too much like a funeral gown, but all of the others seemed far too elaborate for just stepping out for a walk around. So she threw the thing on, along with the matching slippers, splashed some water on her face, ran a brush through her hair, and stepped out into the hall.

The Citadel seemed eerily quiet. Like someone had placed a thick blanket over everything, muffling all sound. It gave Mel a chill that she didn't like. But there was no point going back to her room. There was nothing there and this might be the only time she'd get to see the rest of the Citadel before all hell broke loose. In a few days, nothing would be the same. She didn't know how much of the city was damaged or lost in the Battle of Pellenor Fields, but she didn't intend to miss out on anything. Still she found herself tip-toeing around and peering around corners, strangely on edge. Something just didn't feel right.

She passed through several corridors that looked very similar to the one she was housed in, then realized she had circled back around to the courtyard where the White Tree stood. It was stark and ghostly in the starless night and the silent stillness of the guards made them seem like statues guarding the statue of a tree that had once been great. She carefully made her way forward, watching for any sign that the guards might stop her, but none of them moved. She walked past them and stood before the dead tree. She placed her hand on it's rough, dry bark and closed her eyes, searching for anything, any sign that there might be life left in it. But it was empty. Just a hunk of wood lodged in the ground, a memory of a time long past, when Men had been ruled by great Kings and everything had seemed possible. She sighed and opened her eyes, patting the trunk in a comforting gesture. That day was coming again.

"Not soon enough." She whispered.

Something caught her eye. Her head jerked up. There was a light, a glimmer in the tall tower above the Citadel, the Tower of Ecthelion. She scanned the top of the tower again, searching for that light. She didn't see it again, but she knew it had been there. And that light filled her with anxiety. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

She turned and walked as calmly as she could away from the tree and toward the Hall of Kings. She didn't want to alarm the guards. After all, it could be nothing. She could be imagining things. And she didn't know what it was. She carefully made her way up the steps and calmly walked through the doors of the hall.

Once she was inside, the door tightly closed behind her, she allowed herself to walk a little faster. She didn't know why, she didn't know what had possessed her to think that a light in a tower was something to get all worked up about. But she knew that she'd rather be wrong and look foolish, than be right and not get there in time. Something was happening, something was wrong, everything in her screamed it in a way that she had never felt before. She hurried through the Hall of Kings, sparing no glances to the marvelous statues of the great kings who had once ruled over Gondor and Arnor. These men were dead and there were men yet living who needed her attention more. She passed the throne of Gondor, stark white on it's high pedestal, the Steward's chair a black monolith at it's foot. She barely glanced at them before rushing past. There was a small door at the back of the hall, and she let herself out that way.

She found herself in a small courtyard with a covered walkway that led straight to the smooth white surface of the Tower of Ecthelion. There was a dark narrow arch in the side of the tower that made Mel shiver. She peeked inside and saw a set of stairs spiraling upward toward the tower's top. Something whispered in her mind that there was danger here, that something was wrong and for a brief moment she considered going back for help. But what could she base her plea on? A bad feeling? A chill up her spine? A hunch? No one would take that seriously in a time like this. She had to figure out what was wrong first. Then she could get help.

She took the first tentative steps up the stairs. Her anxiety did not go away. She kept climbing, the darkness closing in as she ascended. There were no torches in the stairway and she briefly entertained the idea of going back for one. But she knew if she turned around now, she would never be able to force herself to come up these steps again. The darkness, the feeling of wrong, was so strong that she couldn't turn back. Something had to be done.

A faint light glimmered ahead and though the darkness of the stairs was oppressing, the light seemed even more frightening than the darkness. Mel edged her way up the stairs and came upon a door. The light was glimmering faintly from around the door's edges. It wasn't torchlight. Torchlight flickered and moved like a living organism. This light… It took a moment for Mel to place where she had seen light like this before because it had been so long, what felt like lifetimes. It was like the light from a movie projector, moving, but mechanical and artificial in it's brilliance. Slowly, Mel reached out a trembling hand and pushed the door open.

The top of the Tower of Ecthelion was just a large round room, white marble and smooth surfaces, sterile and empty. A small pedestal standing in the center of the room was the only furnishing of any kind that Mel could see. She peeked a little farther in, searching for the source of the light that danced across the white walls. A balcony faced out over the Citadel and standing on the balcony stood a man, holding a sphere cupped in his hands. It was from this sphere that the light came and Mel felt a knot form in her stomach. She knew that black glowing sphere. The palantir of the White Tower. And as she stared in horror, the man gazing into it turned and she could see his profile. It was Denethor.

The Steward studied the images that flickered before him with an intensity and a passion that frightened Mel more than anything she had seen. A bead of sweat had formed on his furrowed brow as he concentrated all his energy on the glowing orb, images flickering on it's smooth black surface faster than Mel could catch them. But none of them looked pleasant and Mel knew that he had to be getting this from Mordor, from the palantir that Sauron possessed.

She didn't know what to do. This hadn't been in the plan. She felt frozen by her horror and her inability to do anything. If he could see the Dark Lord's mind, that meant Sauron could see his as well. How much had he given away already? What had he done?

The wooden door creaked as she leaned on it and Denethor jerked toward the noise, his face a mix of anger and fear when he saw her. Before he could speak, the palantir flared to life, as if the black stone had caught fire. Denethor's face twisted in pain and horror.

"No, no, no!" He cried out, his eyes squeezed shut, doubled over as if he wrestled with the palantir. Mel raced across the room as the Steward fell to his knees, still fighting the dark power that was trying to overwhelm him. Mel could hear the whispers of Sauron, the same whisper she had heard in her mind in the presence of the Ring, only this time it was audible, whispering darkness and despair into Denethor's heart.

"_**I am coming, Steward of Gondor. I am coming for you, for your sons, for your city and your people. You are abandoned. You are alone. You will not turn me aside. I am coming and I will take the throne which you could never possess."**_

Tears streamed down Denethor's face, but he set his jaw and shook his head.

"No." He whispered, "No. You did not take him from me before. You will not take him now. No. No!"

He cried out as the fire flared up once more. The images flew through the black depths of the palantir, images of the army that was coming, of the destruction and the terror they brought with them. Mel almost reached out and grabbed the palantir from him, but at the last minute she thought better of it. If the Enemy could see into the mind of the Steward, what might he wrench from her mind if she touched it? There was too much at stake to risk that. She looked around frantically for anything she could use and saw a cloak tossed to the floor. She grabbed it, threw it over the palantir in the Steward's hands, then grabbed the edges together and pulled.

The palantir came loose of the Steward's hands and Mel let it roll itself into the cloak, not daring to touch even the covered surface. Denethor collapsed into a heap on the floor and was still. Mel's heart stopped. Frantically, she crawled to him and put her fingers to his neck. There was a pulse, but it was faint and his breathing was shallow. She scrambled to her feet and raced down the stairs, screaming as loud as she could.

"Help! Somebody help! Please, please help!"

She raced out of the tower, through the Hall of Kings and back out into the courtyard, still screaming for help. One of the black Guardians rushed forward and caught her arm as she stumbled down the steps.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.

Mel tried to catch her breath and gasped out, "The Steward, he collapsed, we need Gandalf, we have to find Gandalf!"

"Where is he?"

"In the tower."

The man turned to his fellow Guardians, "Arion, stay with the Tree. Linadan, Brilforn, fetch the wizard and the healers." The other men quickly ran off and the Guardian turned back to Mel, "Take me to the Steward.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: First, thank you all so much for your patience! You have all been fabulous! I enjoy every single review and message that I get. When I started this thing so many years ago, I never DREAMED I would get the loyal following that I have now. So thank you, I can't say it enough, thank you.

Second, I have accomplished A LOT! Unfortunately, all of that work now needs to be edited. So here's the plan, I will be posting a new chapter every week (give or take a day) in order to give me time to edit what I've already written and also continue to write new material, so hopefully I can keep regular updates coming :)

And now, here is the brand new chapter! Enjoy!

**Chapter 11**

Boromir should have been sleeping. The next few days were too important to be losing sleep. And he had tried. He had opened the doors to the gardens so the breeze could blow through his room. He had laid down, closed his eyes, tried to clear his head. But it had all been in vain. Nothing he'd done had brought sleep any closer. He had tossed and turned, but it was his mind that kept him awake, not his body.

He had not been able to speak to Melody. He had gone to her room several times during the day, but each time the maid servant there had told him she was sleeping. He had tried once more when supper was over, but still nothing. He had forced the servant girl to leave a message in her note that he wanted to speak to Melody as soon as possible. Then he had retired to his room to wait. But she hadn't come. As the night had slowly ebbed away, he had finally concluded that he would have to speak to her in the morning and tried to sleep. But sleep had eluded him. That was why he was awake when the commotion began.

At first it was just the slamming of a door. Then another door. Then running feet, a loud staccato against the stone walls of the corridors. A pounding and then voices, frantic voices. Another door slammed. Then they were running again, running toward his room, more of them this time. Boromir swung out of bed and opened the door. Two servants with torches led Gandalf down the hall, looking rather rumpled, Pippin stumbling behind and rubbing his eyes. Boromir stepped out and shut the door behind him.

"What's going on?" he asked.

One of the servants looked up, startled, "My Lord Boromir! We were just coming to get you, sir."

"What's happened?" He asked, feeling more and more anxious with every moment wasted by these formalities.

"It's your father, Lord Boromir, he's had an accident…"

"Accident!" Gandalf snorted, "A fool's fate is what he's suffered. The fall of a proud fool."

"Tell me on the way." Boromir said, already walking down the corridor. The servants rushed to regain the lead on him, but he took one by the shoulder and turned him aside, "Fetch Faramir." The servant nodded and ran in the other direction.

Gandalf caught up to him, "Your father was found in the Tower of Ecthelion!" He snapped, annoyance clear in his voice, "There's only one reason I would be summoned to his side and it does not bode well for us. I fear what we might have lost this night."

"I don't understand you." Boromir said, keeping his eyes forward, but a knot had formed in his stomach. He knew as well as the wizard what resided at the top of the White Tower. But Gandalf was not fooled by his attempt at ignorance.

"I think you might, though you wouldn't care to see it. But I will speak no more until we have seen the truth of things."

Boromir preferred it that way. There was only one reason he could think of that his father would go to the Tower of Ecthelion so late and he was sure that this was the same conclusion that the wizard had drawn. But could his father really be so foolish? And if so, what had happened tonight that was different from any other night? What had changed? What had his father seen that would make Gandalf so anxious? As they rushed silently down the corridors of the Citadel toward the Houses of Healing, Boromir wondered what he would find when he arrived.

Mel got up and stood at Denethor's bedside. The healers had done all they could, but physically there wasn't much wrong with the Steward. His mind had shut down, leaving only the bare minimum operating to keep him alive. She reached out and brushed a bit of gray hair away from his face. She hadn't told anyone what had happened in the Tower. She had lied to the Guardian, told him she'd found Denethor collapsed and come running for help. She hadn't seen the point in making an already dangerous situation more complicated. The palantir remained on the floor of the tower room. Wrapped in its cloak, no one had seemed to notice it and Mel had made a point of pretending not to notice it either. She would have to tell Gandalf of course, but that could wait.

She reached out and took Denethor's hand. He didn't frighten her now. It was no wonder that he had gone a little crazy. Sauron had been filling his mind with despair and heartache, feeding his pride and toying with his intellect. He had been stupid to use the palantir in the first place, but it had been in desperation and Mel could relate to that. She done some stupid things in her life when it looked like there was no other way. At least she could believe he had been trying to do the right thing, trying to get an edge in a war he couldn't hope to win on his own. What kind of strength must it have taken for him to hold back even the small part of him that had survived for so long? He might be proud, but now Mel thought that he might have some reason to be.

Someone came into the room and she glanced up. Boromir stood there, looking as if he had just gotten out of bed, rumpled shirt and pants, bare feet, tousled hair. He stared at her, like he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Melody?"

The strength that had been keeping her calm and rational evaporated. Her whole body started to tremble and then she ran to him. He grabbed her and held her to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Boromir, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do, I tried, I tried…"

She was really shaking now, but Boromir held her, stroking her hair and whispering, "It's alright, it's alright now, Melody, everything is going to be alright."

She took a minute to fall apart, then she took three deep breaths and pulled herself together again. After all, she was sure the last thing Boromir wanted to be doing was comforting her when his father was the one lying unconscious. She pushed herself back and looked him in the eye to let him know she was okay. He brushed her hair back from her face so he could see her better and that was when she saw it. Something was different. Something had changed. Something in the way he looked at her, something she couldn't quite place…

Then Gandalf brushed past them and started examining Denethor carefully. Pippin stumbled in too, looking half asleep.

"Mel?" He muttered, looking up at her, "What's happening?"

Mel smiled down at the little hobbit and put her arm around his shoulders, "There was an accident, Pip. It's going to be alright now though."

"Melody, you must tell me exactly what happened," Gandalf said, his voice stiff, "Tell me everything."

She did, as precisely as she could remember it. Gandalf worked as she spoke, examining the Steward carefully. At one point, Faramir rushed in looking just as sleep rumpled as his brother, but he didn't interrupt and Mel didn't pause. She was afraid she would lose the details if she did, precious information that could possibly be the difference between Denethor's recovery or losing him forever. She didn't leave out anything, including the words spoken by Sauron and Denethor's reply.

"_I am coming, Steward of Gondor. I am coming for you, for your sons, for your city and your people. You are abandoned. You are alone. You will not turn me aside. I am coming and I will take the throne which you could never possess."_

"_You did not take him from me before. You will not take him now…"_

As Mel repeated the words that echoed in her head, something clicked into place so suddenly that it made her stop everything. Something that she had never considered before, but now made perfect sense. Bits and pieces of conversations rolled through her mind, falling neatly into the suspicion that she was turning over and over in her mind.

_"Boromir is dead."_

_ "The news came from Minas Tirith just a few days ago, that you had…"_

_ "My son, my dear boy, how is this possible? I received news of your death and it tore my heart from me…"_

_ "__You did not take him from me before…"_

_ "…before…"_

She looked up at Boromir staring at her, waiting for her to continue, still with that new look that she couldn't quite place. Why had everyone believed he was dead? She turned her gaze to Faramir. In the original story, Faramir had been the one to discover the truth, finding the Horn of Gondor cleaved on the banks of the Anduin. But Boromir still possessed the horn. There was no funeral boat to find. So how…?

"He saw it." She whispered, finally understanding what should have been clear to her from the beginning, "He showed him"

Boromir and Faramir both looked understandably confused, but Gandalf didn't look surprised at all.

"Saw what?" Boromir asked.

"Exactly what Sauron wished him to see!" Gandalf snapped, "Whether or not there was any truth in it."

Boromir ignored the wizard's frustrated outburst, waiting for Mel to explain.

"That's why everyone thought you were dead." She said, still trying to pull it together, "He saw it. Your father saw it in the palantir. Sauron wanted to break him, to rip away any hope that he might have. Your father might have looked into the seeing stone hoping for an advantage, trying to outwit the Enemy. But Sauron has been playing this game a lot longer and he knew exactly what to show him to break his spirit."

She took a breath, "He saw you die, Boromir. Sauron showed your father your death."

There was a deep silence as the realization of what had happened sank in for Boromir. Mel could see it happening on his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Faramir said, still just as confused as before "How could Father have seen something in the palantir that never happened?" He looked from Mel's face to Boromir's, trying to understand what he could not possibly comprehend, "Boromir? What is this?"

Mel didn't know what to say. How could she tell Faramir that his brother was never supposed to live? She looked at Gandalf and silently pleaded for his help. The wizard sighed and stood from where he knelt at the Steward's bedside.

"The world is changed, Faramir," he said, "In life, there are many paths that one can choose to follow. The path we are on was made by a choice." He looked at Mel, but it was not unkind, "And it was not a choice that the Enemy could foresee. Therefore he showed the Steward a different path, one with a different set of consequences."

"In which Boromir died." Faramir said, nodding, "I think I understand."

Mel knew that he didn't, not really, but it was the closest he was probably ever going to get to understanding. She looked down at the Steward of Gondor and her heart broke for him. She knew how much he loved his son, it was obvious. And to not only know that he was dead, but to watch it happen and know there was nothing he could do about it… Well, she knew how she had felt when it seemed hopeless and she had been sure that Boromir would die. She couldn't begin to imagine what his father must have gone through. She reached out and took his limp hand in hers again, bringing it to her cheek and holding it there, imparting a little warmth into his cold skin.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, "I'm so sorry I ever doubted you."

Gandalf snorted, but when he spoke his tone held that gentle gruffness that Mel suspected he reserved for those whom he held in high regard, "He was a fool."

"He put the safety of the people before his own." Boromir said, in a flat, even tone that made Mel afraid to see his face, "He meant the best for them."

"A fool with good intentions is no less a fool, Boromir." Gandalf said, but the words, despite the gruff voice, were kind, "It is a lesson you should learn and learn well."

Gandalf turned to Mel, "I need the rest of your tale, Mel."

She looked up at him, startled. She had actually forgotten what she had been saying before, "Oh, right. Um, well, I wanted to take the palantir out of Denethor's hands, but I didn't want to touch it because, well, you know…" She glanced around to make sure there was no one else around, then lowered her voice, "Because of the things I know. I didn't want to give Sauron the chance to see all that."

Gandalf nodded, "That was very wise of you, Mel. I admit that I feared the Enemy might have gleaned some bit of information from you in the struggle for the palantir."

Mel shook her head, "As far as I know, he didn't get anything from me. I never touched it, not directly anyway."

She then explained what she had done with the cloak and how she and Denethor had gotten from the tower to the healers. Gandalf continued to study the Steward as she spoke, occasionally touching his face and forehead, but nothing seemed to change.

"So the palantir is still in the Tower of Ecthelion?" Gandalf asked.

"As far as I know." Mel said.

Boromir spoke up, "I'll send someone to…

"No!"

Pippin's voice cut through the still air, surprising everyone. Mel had almost forgotten the hobbit was there. He looked around the room at them, his face a mask of terror.

Then he looked at Gandalf, "You won't let them, will you Gandalf?"

Gandalf walked over and put a hand on Pippin's shoulder, "No, Peregrin Took. No one will go near that tower. I will go and retrieve the stone." He looked up and made eye contact with Boromir, "No one will see or touch it until this business is over."

Boromir paused, then he nodded. Gandalf straightened and Mel blurted out, "What about Denethor? Is he going to be alright?"

The wizard sighed, "I have done all I can for now. He has gone to a place in his mind where I cannot follow. I have knocked at the door, but he does not answer. He will return when he chooses. We must wait for him."

And with that, Gandalf turned and swept out the door. Mel turned back to the Steward. She still held his hand in hers. She felt very much responsible for what had happened to him. If she hadn't interrupted him, he might have been alright. She didn't want to look at Boromir. What if he thought the same thing? Would he blame her for what happened to his father? She felt his presence still just behind her, lingering at her side. Then his voice murmured softly in her ear.

"It is nearly dawn, Melody. You should try to go back to your room and rest."

Mel shook her head. Though his kind words eased a little of the fear she had felt, she still felt responsible for this and she would see it through. "No, I'll stay with him a little while longer."

Faramir moved to the other side of the bed and sat, taking Denethor's other hand, "We can keep watch over him, Mel. You've done all you can."

But Mel shook her head, "No, no the city needs you. You still have to finish preparing the defenses. The siege will start soon." She looked up and smiled at Boromir, "I think I've done all I can about that, which means for now I'm useless. But the people will need you," She looked back at Faramir, "Both of you. You're stronger together than you are apart. And now that your father isn't here to guide them, the soldiers will need you more than ever."

Mel took a seat, still holding Denethor's hand, and looked up at the brothers, daring either of them to challenge her logic. She knew they couldn't. The defenders of Minas Tirith needed strong leaders right now, clear direction to keep them from spiraling into chaos. Gandalf could help on that front, but to have the rightful heir to the Stewardship leading them would help more than anything. The people trusted the Steward's sons more than they would ever trust the old wizard. Of course, her own feelings of responsibility for Denethor's current condition had quite a bit to do with why she was volunteering to keep watch over him, but there was no need to bring that up.

Faramir was the first to relent. He sighed and stood up, "She's right of course." He said, "There's much to be done to make ready for the approaching war. Father would want us to prepare for it." He reached down kissed Denethor's forehead.

Then, as he walked around the bed, he met Boromir's eyes for a brief moment. They seemed to have an unspoken conversation, and Mel suddenly ached for her sisters. She missed that connection that she'd had with them, the ability to know things about them, just from their eyes. The moment passed and Faramir nodded his head.

"I'll go to the soldiers in the garrison. I'm sure word has already spread and there will be rumors that need quenching. Boromir, will you go to the wall?"

"I will, in a moment." He said.

Faramir nodded, then reached out and took Mel's free hand, placing a kiss there, "Our city is in your debt, Mel. I hope you may someday be repaid for the kindness you've shown us."

He smiled, and that more than anything confused and intrigued Mel. He meant more than what his words implied. But she couldn't begin to understand what it was. He gave a final nod to Boromir, and then he was gone. Mel glanced at Boromir, but instead of watching his brother, he was watching her. And he still had that look, the new look that Mel couldn't quite figure out. It wasn't so very different from how he'd always looked at her. But it seemed to hold more… Something. Something she couldn't quite place.

She turned back to the sleeping Steward, "You should go. Faramir is right, there will be rumors flying that'll need to be stopped."

But she could feel him move closer rather than further away, "Are you all right?" he asked softly, "Yesterday…"

She waved it off, "Nothing a little sleep didn't fix." She looked up at him and grinned, "But thank you for asking. I know I wasn't very nice to you yesterday."

He looked confused for a moment, as if he'd forgotten about her harsh words. Something was definitely different about him. Mel wished she could put her finger on exactly what it was.

"Are you alright?" Mel finally asked. Boromir looked at her and Mel realized how stupid that question was. She turned back to the sleeping Steward, "No, of course you're not, sorry, that was a stupid question." She closed her eyes and inwardly chastised herself for her insensitivity, "You should go help Faramir."

"Well, I'm staying."

Mel and Boromir both looked across the sleeping Steward. Pippin had already taken Faramir's seat there, his arms folded stubbornly.

"What? I'm a part of the Citadel guard. It is my sworn duty to protect the Steward. I'm staying right here."

Mel glanced at Boromir. He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged, "He has a point."

Boromir looked between Pippin and Mel for a moment, then he seemed to give in, "Very well." He said.

"If anything changes, we'll send for you." Mel said.

Boromir nodded. Then he put a hand on her shoulder for a moment before he turned away. Mel heard his heavy footfalls as he left the room and when they had faded into silence, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She clasped Denethor's hand in both of her own. Pippin did the same for the other hand.

"Do you really think everything will be alright, Mel?" He asked.

She looked up and forced a smile through the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her, "I'm sure it will, Pip."

_It has to._ She thought. _Please, Denethor. Please wake up._


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Okay guys, sorry it took me a little longer than a week to post this. I was at my parents house for the weekend and forgot my flash drive :P So now, on with the show!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

That morning seemed like a blur to Mel. Despite his resolution to stay with her, Pippin soon fell asleep in his chair. Mel didn't have the heart to wake him. She barely remembered one of the healers bringing breakfast and checking the Steward's condition. Denethor slept on, never moving or making any indication that he was aware of what was going on around him. Mel still held his hand and waited. There was nothing else she could do. If Gandalf had been unable to pull him out of whatever dark hole his mind had crawled into, she knew there was nothing she could do.

At some point, she began to talk to him. She'd heard somewhere that coma patients sometimes responded to familiar voices that spoke to them. She wasn't sure if that really applied to this situation, but she didn't think it would hurt. So she told him stories about her childhood, things that she would never have dared to tell him and that he would never have begun to understand, had he been conscious. But it helped her pass the time with him. She told him about her father, her mother, her sisters, anything she could think of. Then she started telling him the story of how she came to be there, beginning with that day in the woods when Boromir found her. It seemed like such an old story, something that had happened years ago, not months. She told him about the Mines of Moria and about Lothlorien, about Maltalda the golden tree and Eregwen, the kind elf nurse who had cared for her. She hadn't thought of them in ages. She even told him of the painful choice she had made to stay behind in Lothlorien.

"It broke my heart." She said, "Because I knew what was going to happen. Just like you saw, Denethor, in the palantir and it broke your heart. You see, there's something I need to tell you, and I guess this is probably the best time, since you probably can't even hear me. I love your son. I love Boromir, very much. That's why I had to save him, that's why I didn't stay in Lothlorien. I went after him, even if it was too late, because I knew I had to try to save him. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself otherwise."

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "That's why I'm here. Because I love Boromir. And I need you to wake up because he needs you to wake up. So wake up, Denethor, wake up for Boromir. Please, just wake up."

Nothing happened. Not a twitch, not a flutter. He just slept on. She sat back and sighed.

"Yeah, I know it probably doesn't matter. After all, I'm nobody. Why would you listen to me?"

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting a headache. There was nothing she could do. She just had to wait until…

"Why are you here?"

Mel's eyes flew open and she looked down. Denethor were staring back at her with cold anger. He repeated his question.

"Why are you here?"

Mel's mouth opened and closed a few times before she could make words come out, "I… I just… I was waiting for you to wake up."

"Where are my sons?" he asked, his eyes flitting around the room, "Why do they not wait on their father?"

His voice was getting louder and Pippin jerked awake. He rubbed his eyes and saw the Steward sitting up in bed. His face lit up and he jumped to his feet.

"My Lord Denethor!" the little hobbit exclaimed, "You're awake! We have to get Gandalf!"

Denethor turned his stony gaze on the little hobbit and Mel thought she saw Pippin wither a little under the unexpected hostility, "Why is the Steward of Gondor left in the care of a stranger and a simpleton? Where are my sons?"

"They are preparing for the siege," Mel answered, Pippin's crestfallen look enough to burn away the last tendrils of her shock, "How are you feeling?"

He locked her with that cold glare again, "I will recover, no thanks to you."

Mel felt the weight of his angry words hit her in the stomach, but she held her head high, her own anger smoldering inside her. Denethor's words continued to cut into her.

"By staying at my bedside do you hope to absolve yourself of responsibility for your meddling? Had it not been for you, the Enemy's plans would now be clear to us. Any lives lost on that account are on your hands!"

Mel felt the anger swell up inside of her. She stood, "And had it not been for your meddling, my lord, the Enemy would know less of our own plans. Any lives lost on that account are on your hands."

She had to go. Her fury was burning inside her and she was afraid she would do something stupid. She turned to leave, but she couldn't resist one last jab.

"And I didn't stay here for myself, or even for you. I stayed so that this city could continue to prepare, so that the people would be ready for the army that's coming for them. I stayed for them and no one else."

She looked over her shoulder at Pippin, who was staring at her with a gaping mouth, "Pippin, fetch the healers. I'm sure they'll wish to know that their lord is recovering."

She whirled back and stalked out of the room, calling behind her, "I'll let your sons know you're awake, Lord Denethor."

Once she was out of the room, her whole body started to tremble. She clenched her fists and kept walking. She couldn't lose it now. There was too much to do. She marched past the healers without a word, ignoring their questioning glances. If she tried to talk to them now, she wasn't sure what would come out. When she got outside the Houses of Healing, she grabbed a man in uniform passing by and asked where she might find the Steward's sons. Boromir was still preparing the defenses at the gates, but Faramir was in the Citadel overseeing the distribution of arms and supplies. Mel decided it would be easier to find Faramir herself and so sent the man to inform Boromir that his father was awake and started toward the Citadel.

As she hurried through the streets and passages, she was forced to fight down her shaking and the thoughts swirling in her mind, self-doubt and horror. What if Denethor was right? But she couldn't think about that now. There was too much to do still. She found her way to the store rooms and there found Faramir. He glanced up and when he saw her, he dropped the sword he had been inspecting, letting it clatter to the floor, and almost ran to her.

"Father?" he asked, fear trembling in his voice.

Mel shook her head, "He's fine, he's awake and asking for you."

"And Boromir?" he asked.

Mel nodded, "I sent someone for him. He'll meet you there."

"You look so pale, Mel. You could have sent someone for me."

Mel shook her head, "No, no I needed the walk."

Faramir gave her a look that quickly transformed from puzzlement to sympathetic understanding, "Mel, whatever he said, you mustn't take it personally. My father does not like to be made to feel helpless or incapable. He often takes out his frustrations on those closest to him."

Mel nodded, but she couldn't meet his eyes. She knew that she shouldn't take it personally, she knew the Steward's personality, that this was one of many flaws, but his words had cut her deeply and had echoed so closely what she had been feeling. She started to tremble again and dug her fingernails into her palms to make it stop.

"You should go, Faramir." She said, "You wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

Faramir placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, "Get some sleep, Mel. The last few days have not been kind to you. And the coming days look to be no more kind."

Mel nodded and forced herself to smile. Faramir returned it, looking completely unconvinced, before he hurried past her. She sighed and decided it would probably be best to take his advice. She did still feel so incredibly tired. She made her way through the corridors of the Citadel and finally found her own room. A note had been left there by Loriel, along with more sets of pants and shirts. She had heard what had happened and hoped that everything was well, and would see her later before lunch. Mel moved the folded the clothes and set them on the floor, then crawled into her bed, not even bothering to change out of the black dress she was still wearing.

Finally, laying in bed, everything that Mel was feeling overwhelmed her. What was she doing? So much had happened since she'd picked up that ring in the woods on her way home from work. Parts of the story she had once loved and known so well were almost unrecognizable. She had made so many decisions and, because of them, so many things had changed. That was why Denethor's words had struck so hard.

"_Any lives lost are on your hands!"_

Lives would be lost because of what she'd done. At least one, a nameless, faceless person. His life would end because she would be forced to make a choice. Who would it be? Would it be someone she had never met? Someone she had seen only in passing? Or would it be someone she cared about? Could she live with herself if it came to that? It was easy to say that she would do anything to keep Boromir safe, but when faced with the choice between his life and the life of another, would she be able to do what needed doing?

What was it all for anyway? What was she sacrificing someone's life for? What was all this meddling and messing with history going to do? Save the life of a man who could never possibly love her as much as she loved him. They came from completely different worlds. He might care about her, but love her? It was impossible. And despite all that, she loved him so much that she would sacrifice another person's life to keep him safe in a world he wasn't even supposed to exist in. And he would never know. He would never know how much she loved him.

Why had Yavanna done this? If she had brought her here just a few weeks, a few days, maybe even a few hours later, she might never have even met Boromir. She would never have known how kind and strong and wonderful he was. She might never have loved him. And none of this would have happened. There wouldn't be all this uncertainty, this doubt. She wouldn't have to feel like everything that was about to happen would be all her fault.

"_Any lives lost are on your hands…"_

Mel buried her face in her pillow and cried, cried for the people who would die in this war, for the nameless sacrifice she would have to make for foolish love, for her own broken heart. She cried until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

She must have still been exhausted because when she was woken by a soft knock on her door, the little light that still filtered through the darkness of Mordor had almost faded away completely. She rolled out of bed and was just pulling her clothes straight when the door creaked open and Loriel poked her head in.

"Oh Mel, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you…"

Mel waved away her apologies, "It's okay Loriel, I can't keep sleeping like this. I guess I missed supper again?"

Loriel nodded as she set a tray on the end of the bed, "I thought you might be hungry. I wasn't sure when last you had eaten."

Mel could smell the familiar aroma of stew and fresh bread. Her stomach gurgled as she lifted the tray lid and pulled the food toward her, "I haven't eaten since breakfast. Thank you, for thinking of me."

"It was no trouble. I've thought of you often the past two days."

As if she was unable to contain her excitement, Loriel perched herself on the bed.

"Mel, I saw the gate." She whispered, as if the very mention of it might unmake it.

Mel smiled as she swallowed a mouthful of stew, "Oh yeah? What did you think?"

"It was one of the most magnificent things I've ever seen." Loriel said, her eyes sparkling, "I can't imagine what kind of power it must have taken."

Mel shrugged, "Well, since I was out all day and most of the night, I'd say it must have been a fair bit."

She looked up and grinned, but Loriel looked upset.

"Last night…" the girl began, but then stopped as if unable to complete her thought.

Mel waited for a beat, and then decided to prod it out of her, "What Loriel? It's ok, you can ask me anything."

She seemed to hesitate still then leaned forward as if she was afraid someone might hear, "It's just that rumors have been whispered in the city, about the Steward and what happened to him. They say horrible things, things I know can't possibly be true."

She hesitated again and Mel wasted no time prodding her this time.

"What things?" The maid's eyes darted to the door and Mel grabbed her arm, "Loriel, tell me. What things are they saying?"

Loriel's eyes snapped back to Mel, "It's not everyone, only a few. But they say…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "They say that you were there too soon. That you might have… That you might have tried to assassinate the Steward." Loriel frantically grabbed Mel's hand, "Oh Mel, I know it isn't true, I know it! You've been so kind, ever since you arrived, I know you couldn't have meant him any harm! But no one knows what happened. No one will ask and no one will come out and say. Mel, what happened to Lord Denethor in that tower?"

Mel didn't know what to think. Her body and her mind felt numb. They thought she hurt Denethor on purpose. They thought it was her. Because of the numbness of her mind and emotions, she was able to see how that might make sense. After all, she was an outsider, the one who didn't belong. And they knew she had power now. No one trusted anyone with the kind of power she had, no matter how reluctantly she held it.

But… They thought she tried to KILL him! Little nobody Melody Bernston, suspected assassin! The idea might have been funny if it weren't so horrifying. She felt a lump of fear form in her throat, but she swallowed and forced it away. It was ridiculous and anyone with any sense would know it. Loriel didn't believe it and the girl barely knew her! She took a deep breath and smiled at Loriel.

"You're right, I didn't hurt Lord Denethor." She said and she saw Loriel relax a little, "I was just in the right place at the right time. I woke up in the night and went for a walk. I ended up at the Tower of Ecthelion and I found Denethor there. Then I went for help."

There. She hadn't lied. She might not have told Loriel everything, but she didn't need to know everything. Loriel smiled at her, all traces of anxiety gone.

"I knew it. I knew you couldn't have had anything to do with it. That's what I kept telling the others." She squeezed Mel's hand, "You have too much good in you."

Mel took another sip of her soup before answering, "I don't know about all that. I have just as much good in me as the next person, I guess."

Loriel smiled and patted her hand, "You underestimate yourself far too often, Mel." The little maid stood and straightened her dress, "Well, I'll leave you to your dinner."

A thought suddenly popped in her head and she grabbed the maid's hand, "Loriel, the battle starts tomorrow. Where will you go?"

Loriel smiled, "I will be assisting in the Houses of Healing. Where will you be, Mel?"

Mel opened her mouth, then closed it again. The truth was she didn't actually know. She knew that she would be wherever Boromir was, but she didn't know where specifically. She took an educated guess.

"On the wall."

Loriel looked very grave when she said this, but she nodded, "I thought as much. In that case, I pray I have no cause to see you until the battle is finished." The maid hesitated, then leaned down and planted a kiss on Mel's forehead, "Take care, my lady."

Mel smiled and kissed Loriel's hand, the only way she knew to return the gesture, "You too, Loriel."

Loriel returned her smile, but Mel saw the anxiety on her face as she gave her one final glance before she shut the door behind her. Mel ate the rest of her meal quietly. She didn't like upsetting Loriel, but there was no way to help it. She had to stick with Boromir. She didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow and she couldn't risk leaving him out there by himself. She still had a choice to make and she wanted to be there when the time came to make it. The truth was, she was still holding on to a sliver of hope, that there might be some way to weasel her way around it, that she might find some loophole in Mandos' deal. There had to be a way.

She put her empty dishes back on the tray and set the tray by the door. She washed her face and changed clothes, regular shirt and trousers now. She didn't think she would be wearing any more of those beautiful dresses for a while. She let her hands brush over the fine fabrics briefly before she shut the wardrobe.

She decided to take a walk in the garden outside her room. It was dark now, but the air was unseasonably warm and there was still a faint glow on the eastern horizon. Mel tried not the think about that as she stepped out onto the soft grass and wiggled her bare toes. She walked to the edge of the garden that faced as far away from the east as possible and leaned on the low wall, staring out over Minas Tirith. Most of the city was dark, but she could see pinpricks of light here and there, and she heard the clatter and chatter of soldiers echoing on the stones. She closed her eyes and the voices of the city's trees swelled up in her mind, murmuring to one another, some talking about the battle coming, some remembering battles past, some recalling times when peace had reigned and the city had been full of life. The soft voices were soothing for her frazzled nerves and she let her mind settle into them with a heavy sigh.

"You should be resting."

Mel jumped and opened her eyes. Boromir was standing beside her, but his eyes faced east toward the wicked glow of Mordor. He looked like the one that needed rest. Though he stood straight and tall, his face was lined with worry. Mel stood up and shrugged.

"I think I've gotten all the rest I'm going to for awhile."

Boromir nodded, but his eyes still studied the eastern horizon.

"Mordor is restless this night." He murmured, "Sauron knows the battle begins in the morning."

Mel finally made herself look that way. The fire in the east made a knot form in her stomach.

"He doesn't know everything, Boromir. He thinks he does, but he really doesn't."

Boromir's body stiffened, "No thanks to my father, you mean."

Mel sat up, startled by the coldness in his voice, "No! No, that's not…"

But he had already relaxed, and waved away her protests, "No, it's true. What Father did was reckless with so much at stake. He has been using the palantir for too long, he has forgotten its risks. And he is a proud man, unable to see when he has reached his own limits." He finally met Mel's eyes, "It is not your fault, Melody. No matter what he said to you, you are not to blame for this or anything that happens in the coming days."

Mel turned away from him, looking out at the city. His words spoke exactly to what she had been feeling, it was hard to act like it didn't bother her, but she tried.

"No, of course it isn't. Why would I think that?"

"Melody," Boromir's voice was chiding, but gentle, "I know some of what he said to you, and I know it upset you. Why do you think I am here?"

She felt his fingertips brush through her hair. Mel had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to keep from shuddering. How was it possible that he still made her feel so strongly? Why did he have to make it so hard to remember that he could never love her?

When she felt in control again, she opened her eyes and turned back to him. He had that look again and it made her insides tie up in knots.

"It's ok, Boromir." She said, "I know it isn't my fault. I think I was just tired so it rubbed me the wrong way."

He didn't look terribly convinced, but he inclined his head to concede the point. He looked back out over the city, at the lights that were winking in and out through out the city.

"They will come in the morning. Scouts have already spotted the foremost battalions crossing the Pelennor and all entrances to the city have been sealed. The battle will begin tomorrow." His eyes flicked to her, then away, "I would like you to remain in the Citadel. It will be the safest place."

Mel could tell he was purposely avoiding her eyes, but ignoring her wasn't gonna work. He should have known better by now.

"Sorry, I can't do that. I'll be with you."

Boromir's whole body seemed to sag and he rubbed his eyes, like they had been having this same argument forever. Mel guessed they sort of had.

"Melody, it will be dangerous and frightening. You've done all you can to protect us..."

"To protect the city." Mel interrupted, "Not you. Now I have to protect you."

"I really think there is very little you can..."

"Boromir, really, when are you gonna learn not to argue with me about this? It never works out in your favor."

"This is a different situation."

Mel pretended to consider that, "No, I really don't think it is. I'm sticking to your side like glue tomorrow. If you make me hunt you down I will, but I'm not leaving you."

His eyes flashed and he threw up his hands, "Stubborn woman! I do not understand why you must be so difficult! What must I do?"

Then so quickly that Mel barely had time to register that it was happening, Boromir took her face in his hands and kissed her. For one tiny microsecond, Mel was so shocked she didn't know what to do. Then every thought in her head melted and she kissed him back, grabbing his tunic to keep her legs from giving out on her. The first few seconds were full of frustration, as if he were bent on proving his point. But somewhere along the way the point seemed to be forgotten and he kissed her softly, running his hands through her hair and lightly brushing her cheek with his fingertips, sending shivers down her spine.

When they broke apart, Mel couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. She wasn't even sure she could move. She just stared up into those gray eyes that had now lost any trace of anger and held only tenderness. Boromir smiled down at her and brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"Melody," he whispered, and his voice sent another shiver down her spine, "Now do you understand? How can I risk one I love so much?"

He loved her? Mel felt her heart start to pound. Was she dreaming? She had been telling herself for so long that it wasn't possible, now that she had heard the words spoken out loud she couldn't wrap her mind around it. Love… He loved her. He loved her! She felt light-headed and giddy. It took a second or two to make her brain circle back to the original conversation, and a couple more seconds to come up with a coherent response.

"Don't you think I feel exactly the same way?" She asked, "How do you think I would feel if something happened to you tomorrow and I wasn't there? Do you think it would be any easier for me? I love you too, you know," God, it felt so good to say the words out loud, "And we've been taking care of each other for a long time now. I don't see any reason to stop now. You watch my back, I'll watch yours. Deal?"

She stuck out her hand. Boromir looked down at her outstretched hand and raised an eyebrow. But finally he just rolled his eyes and took her hand in his.

"Deal." He agreed grudgingly, but his eyes twinkled. Then he used her hand to pull her closer and whispered, "Stubborn woman…" before he kissed her again and Mel forgot what they were talking about.

* * *

Extra A/N to add: _SQUEAL!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Mel's head was spinning. Less than an hour before, she and Boromir had been kissing in a garden overlooking the city and she had never been happier. Now she was standing in an armory, watching Boromir dig through various pieces of metal and she was terrified. The metal clanged and reverberated across the stone as one by one the different pieces were inspected then tossed aside. Each clang made Mel wince.

Boromir's face was grim and decisive as he sorted through the armor. He still was not happy with her decision, but he had conceded the argument, which Mel was grateful for. But he had insisted that he be the one to assign her armor to her, and he had insisted that they do it now. Not wanting to start a new argument, and still feeling a bit light-headed from the realization of his feelings for her, she had agreed.

Now she wondered if that had been a bad decision. An hour later and Boromir still seemed no closer to finding anything he was satisfied with. His methodical search had been silent except for the clang of metal as he tossed helmets, breastplates, and various other bits aside, things that Mel couldn't even identify. She had been watching from the doorway, afraid to break the heavy silence that had fallen between them as Boromir's search had dragged on, but she was starting to get worried. She had been sleeping all day, but Boromir had been up and working. He needed to sleep.

Boromir pulled out another helmet and turned it over in his hands, his eyes taking in details that Mel was sure only he could see. He seemed to hold this a little longer than the others, taking more time with it. Mel held her breath. He glanced at her, but he wasn't looking at her. He was seeing something else. He was assessing. Finally, he set the helmet aside, not tossing it like the others, and continued his search. Before long, the helmet was joined by a pile of metal pieces larger than Mel thought was strictly necessary, but she didn't dare say anything. It looked as if they might be making progress and she didn't want to ruin that. Finally, Boromir stood up and surveyed his collection. Then he gave her another calculating look, that didn't really see her, and he nodded.

"This will do." He said.

He picked up a chain mail shirt and went to work. One by one the bits of metal were strapped onto various bits of Mel's body. The chain mail wasn't so bad, but the rest of it… As each new piece went on, Mel felt as if the life was being squeezed out of her. Pressure started building up in her chest. She couldn't breathe. She resisted the urge to start gasping for air, instead trying to take controlled breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. But each new piece of armor seemed like just another weight thrown on her chest. She started to feel dizzy. She thought she might be sick.

Finally, Boromir put the helmet on her head. As the cold metal covered her face, something inside of Mel snapped and she lost it. She ripped the helmet off and threw it against the far wall. Boromir stood back his eyes wide.

"Melody, what…?"

"I can't," she gasped, "I can't do this… I can't… Get this off me!"

She started ripping at straps and tossing the armor aside, desperately trying to get out of the metal shell that was keeping her from the air. She had to get out. She had to breathe!

Boromir tried to grab her hands, "Melody! Melody, stop!"

But she fought him, ripping her hands away and stumbling out of the door, falling to her knees and still pulling bits of armor off, letting it fall off of her until she was down to nothing but the chain mail shirt. Only then did she feel like she could breathe again. She fell on to her back on the cool stone floor and took deep breaths of the stuffy night air, her eyes closed as she regained control of herself again.

She heard metal clinking, but she didn't open her eyes. She didn't want to look Boromir in the face right now. He had to be so disappointed in her. She was disappointed in herself. She had been through worse things and survived. But she couldn't imagine being forced back into that metal suit again. It was just too much. She heard Boromir's heavy sigh beside her and she resisted the urge to turn away like a child. She still didn't open her eyes though.

"I am sorry, Melody." He said.

His voice was so genuine and gentle, that Mel opened her eyes almost involuntarily and looked at him. He was sitting next to her, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at a spot on the ground, his face soft.

"You aren't a soldier." He said, "I shouldn't expect you to act like one. You've never worn a soldier's armor, or fought in a war. Sometimes, it's difficult for me to remember that you are different from us." He looked at her and smiled, "You have the same heart, but your body and your mind don't always conform to your warrior's spirit."

Mel sat up on her elbows and sighed, "I know you want me to be safe, Boromir…" she said, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"You cannot be safe if you do not feel safe. If the armor makes you feel uncomfortable, then you shouldn't wear it. Your mind must be clear of all other concerns when you are in battle. Soldiers train for months to wear the armor that I placed on you. I should not have expected you to achieve the same comfort as they have."

Mel sat up and wrapped her hands around her knees. The chain mail she was wearing clinked and made Boromir glance at it.

"You seem comfortable enough in the mail." He said.

She glanced down at the metal rings. The shirt seemed to fit alright, and it wasn't too heavy. She nodded, "It's not too bad."

"Then that shall be your armor." Boromir said, smiling, "It is better than nothing at all."

He stood up and pulled Mel to her feet. He put his hand to her cheek and kissed her softly. Mel's head still spun with giddy happiness when their lips touched and as they pulled apart, Boromir sighed.

"Why did you come to me in this time of war, Melody?" he whispered, "There were happier times, almost peaceful. We could have been happy here in the city, without this cloud of worry and doubt hanging over us."

She smiled and brushed his cheek with her finger tips, "This won't last forever, Boromir." She whispered, "I promise."

He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, but she forced herself to pull her hand away.

"You should sleep while you can." She said, "You look exhausted."

He nodded, "I am weary." He took her hands in his and held them to his chest, "But I've lost so much time with you."

She smiled, "Then we'll have to make up for it later. But you need to sleep. You're no good to anyone this tired."

He sighed, "What will you do until the morning?"

Mel shrugged "I guess go back to my room and try to sleep too. I don't think anyone will be getting much of that in the next few days."

They left the armory and walked back to the Citadel together, Mel's arm wrapped in Boromir's. It was a position that was familiar to her, but she felt closer to him now, less uneasy. She smiled to herself.

He left her at her door, with a soft good night and another kiss that made her feel as light as air. Then he turned away and Mel watched him until he turned out of sight. Then she let herself into her own room.

She lay down on her bed completely clothed and stared up into space for a while. She wasn't tired. At all. And her mind and heart were still racing. She tried closing her eyes to see if sleep would come. But it didn't and after an excruciating amount of time, she gave up and swung out of bed. She opened her door and peeked around. No one was out and everything was still and silent. She shut the door softly behind her and padded down the hall. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she couldn't sit still.

She walked out of the halls with living quarters and wandered until she once again reached the courtyard of the White Tree. It seemed like she always found herself here. She stopped in front of it, giving it a moment of respect before she moved on. One of the Guardians nodded to her as she passed and she recognized him from the night before. She nodded in return, but didn't try to disturb his watch. She climbed the steps and quietly entered the throne room.

This time, she actually took the time to observe the statues of the Kings that lined the room's walls. None of them seemed familiar to her, but some had certain things carved into their statues that made her wonder about their stories. A few seemed to have been carved as if they were riding a great ocean wave. Another was stepping on a cat lying dead at his feet. Another was an old man, but his crown and his robes seemed more glorious and rich than all the others. It made her wish she knew more about the origins of the kings of Gondor, about the stories that surrounded them.

When she reached the end of the statues, she took a moment to look at the two thrones, one white, another black at it's foot. She wondered what that must feel like, to sit everyday at the foot of an empty throne, waiting for something you are sure will never come. She could understand Denethor's anger at the thought of being tossed aside for some unknown Ranger. He had worked his whole life to keep Gondor safe, to rule justly and fairly as best he could. It was all he knew. What would become of him when Aragorn finally came to claim the white throne that was his? Mel couldn't imagine that Denethor would sit quietly at his feet. What would happen to Gondor if the two rulers couldn't get along?

Mel walked out the back door behind the thrones and through the little covered walkway until she reached the smooth white surface of the Tower of Ecthelion. The dark archway in it's side didn't frighten her now. Gandalf had taken the palantir and put it somewhere safe. Now this was just a tower, nothing more. She climbed the steps and pushed her way into the round room at the top.

It felt empty and purposeless now. The pedestal in the center was bare and out of place. The round white walls were stark. She ran her hands along the smooth stone as she walked around the perimeter of the room, until she reached the small balcony facing toward the east. She stepped out and looked out over the city of Minas Tirith.

There were still lights twinkling through out the city. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. The first level however was dark and deserted. Not a single light shone there. She had been meaning to close up the gate to the second level as well, but it didn't seem likely that would happen now. She hoped that what she had done would be enough to give the Rohirrim and Aragorn time to get to the battle. She hoped that she had at least done something worthwhile.

"The city holds it's breath."

Mel looked up. Gandalf was beside her. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. She turned back to the city.

"Couldn't sleep either, I take it?"

Gandalf didn't answer, but Mel could smell tobacco as he blew a smoke ring out of his pipe.

Finally, the wizard said, "Melody Calenhiril, Minas Tirith owes you quite a debt."

Mel looked at him, puzzled, "They don't owe me anything."

He smiled at her, "You've given their trees a chance to protect the city, and you brought their favorite son safely back to them. I think there are few who would say that they did not owe you a debt."

Mel turned back to the city, suddenly feeling ashamed, "You know I didn't do those things for them. Well, maybe the tree thing, but…"

"No, Boromir was a selfish act." Gandalf said, but he said it kindly, without judgment, "That is true. But it was out of love, and that cannot be ignored. Not by anyone."

He gave her a pointed look and once again Mel felt sure that he knew everything, everything about her choice and what she had been thinking and what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry." She whispered tears choking her voice because it hurt to say it, "I'm sorry, but I can't let him die. I can't."

Gandalf's eyes got very sad, "I know." He put his arm around her, and pulled her to his side, "I know. Do not despair, Mel." He seemed to consider his words carefully, "Do you know the tale of Beren and Luthien?"

Mel shrugged, "Only a little. Luthien was an elf and Beren was a mortal. They fell in love and then they died."

Gandalf nodded, "Then you do not know the whole story." He smiled down at her, "Not all stories must have unhappy endings, even ones that end in death."

Mel waited to see if the wizard would say any more, feeling more confused than ever. But instead Gandalf took his arm away and leaned against the balcony, taking another puff of his pipe.

"I suppose I shall see you on the walls of battle tomorrow." He said.

Mel nodded, "I have to be there."

Gandalf didn't say anything, just puffed on his pipe for a moment. Then he stood, emptied his pipe and turned to her.

"Then I shall wish you a good night, Melody Calenhiril, until tomorrow."

Then he swept out of the tower, leaving Mel feeling even more confused than when she had started. The wizard knew something that she didn't and he seemed to be trying to help her, but she just wished he would just come out and say it! Why did he have to be so vague all the time?

She huffed and flung herself against the balcony wall, staring out over the quiet city. She didn't know if she would see it this peaceful again for a long time and she decided to enjoy it.

* * *

The air was still on the Anduin. The fleet of ships barely seemed to move, their black sails barely fluttering. But move they did, onward down the river, closer and closer to Minas Tirith. Legolas stood watch, staring out into the night and he felt uneasy. He had felt ill at ease for days now and he wondered what could be troubling him so. Battle did not fear him. He knew they all fought a war they could not hope to win without the destruction of the Enemy which roused the invading armies to fight. He knew it was likely that none of their number would survive the fight that was coming. This he had always known, since they had set out from Rivendell, what felt like a lifetime ago. So why then did his heart feel so restless?

"How fares it, Legolas, Thranduil's son?"

Legolas turned to see one of Elrond's son's approaching. The twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had come with the Rangers of the North five days earlier. This looked to be Elladan who joined him. Legolas cast his eyes out over the dark river and the lands beyond.

"The air is still and the night is dark. But nothing threatens."

"And yet still you seem uneasy." Elladan said, coming to stand beside him, "What troubles your mind, if not the coming battle or threatening forces?"

"I am unsure." Legolas confessed, "My heart seems far from this place."

Elladan nodded, "Ah, yes, you fear for the safety of another more dear to you than yourself."

Legolas nodded, though only now was it clear to him. Mel. He was thinking of her, even when he did not mean to. He feared for her. They'd heard word that she and Boromir had passed through Edoras and stayed the night before continuing on the road to Minas Tirith. But that had been the last they'd heard of them. No news had come out of Gondor heralding the return of the Steward's eldest son. No news had come out of Gondor of anything. War made it difficult for news to pass through the lands. So Legolas was left with only his own hopes and fears and speculations.

Elladan smiled kindly at him, "It is difficult," He said, "In these dark days, it is difficult, even dangerous to love. But love we must, for love is what keeps us fighting. Love keeps our hope alive. But it is painful." He clasped Legolas shoulder, "I too live in the hope of seeing her again, Legolas. I have worried for her safety on many dark nights since you embarked on your quest. To send a woman into such danger, one that I would consider a friend, was one of the most difficult things I have done. And I have spent many nights questioning my decision since you embarked on that quest that took you all from our door." He smiled, "But I know that Mel follows a path all her own, and that with or without my help she would have gone her own way. Knowing this has eased my soul somewhat. And she is not alone. She is among friends, people we all trust. They will not allow her to come to harm."

Legolas looked out across the black water and felt a blackness come over his heart, "I have seen things that would make me question my judgement of those who have been entrusted with her care, Elladan. How can I believe that they would keep her safe?"

Elladan tilted his head, confused. No word had been said of Boromir's betrayal. Only those in the Fellowship knew of it. And Legolas had agreed that this was best. After all, Boromir was no longer the same man. He had been redeemed. Hadn't he? The longer Legolas went without news of Mel, the more he began to doubt. After all, Boromir's treatment of Mel had been less than ideal in those last few weeks they had been together. How much of that had been the Enemy's influence and how much from his own heart?

But there was no reason to poison the heart of another with his doubt. Legolas saw the wisdom in that. So he simply looked at Elladan and smiled, "I apologize, Elladan. The darkness of the night has given rise to dark thoughts in my heart."

Elladan glanced out at the horizon, "The darkness is always deepest before the dawn." He said, "Perhaps the day will lighten the troubles of your heart." He put a hand on Legolas' shoulder, "Have faith, Legolas. Mel is special. No harm will come to her."

Legolas nodded and Elladan went on his way. But as Legolas turned his watchful eyes back to the murky blackness, he wished more than anything that he had not left her behind all those weeks ago.

"I'm coming, Mel." He whispered softly to the night winds, "I'm coming now. And I will not leave you again."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Hey everybody, I'm back and I just wanted to drop in and tell you guys to check out my updated profile page! Especially check out the new Fan Creations section! Big shout out to Tainted Bunny for the fanmix that's on there right now, you guys should all check it out, it's fantastic! There's some other stuff on there about submitting your own work if you'd like and my new Facebook page where you can like me if you want. I'd love to get to know some of you! And now, on with the new chapter!

**Chapter 14**

The night passed and Mel watched from the Tower as the light in the east began to brighten, though she knew no sun would touch Minas Tirith today, just as it had not touched the city in the last four days. Sauron's darkness still covered all of Gondor from the river Anduin to the city gates.

Because she was still in the tower as the light brightened, she was probably the first to see it. There was a darkness covering the land. At first she thought it might be a shadow. But with no sun or cloud, what could be casting it? And it seemed to move steadily toward the city, rippling like a wave of black ooze as it crawled across the plains, covering the land in blackness. That was when she realized what she was seeing. It was the army. Sauron's army.

The black troops seemed to cover all of the Pelennor Fields. It was like there was no end. And they kept coming steadily forward, filling the land toward Minas Tirith. They were coming. The siege had started.

Mel ran out of the tower, across the Citadel, toward the sleeping quarters as fast as she could. She had to get Boromir. She had to be with him. But as she ran toward the door that led to the living quarters, it slammed open and Boromir came running out, already clad in Gondorian armor. She ran to him and he embraced her.

"Melody, where have you been?" he asked, worry clear in his voice.

"No time, they're here, they're coming." She gasped, pulling herself away so she could see his face, "I saw them, the army, they're coming, I could see them, they're almost here."

"I know, I know, one of the watch came to wake me." Boromir said in a soothing tone, brushing her hair from her face, "When you weren't in your room I thought you might have been out doing something foolish."

Mel raised an eyebrow, "Me? Do something foolish? Surely not." Now that she was with Boromir and he seemed calm, she felt much calmer. Adrenaline was coursing through her though and that made her heart pound with excitement.

Boromir rolled his eyes and took her hand, "Come, there are things we must see to."

Mel followed him through the Citadel, as he relayed orders to those soldiers that he passed, sending some on errands to rouse the city and sound the alarms, others to their posts along the walls of the lower levels. Finally, they reached the stables where horses were already saddled and ready for them. Faramir was waiting there as well, also in full armor. The brothers clasped hands.

"So, I see you could not keep her away." Faramir said when he saw Mel behind Boromir. He put his hand over his chest in salute to her, "And what a fine Sword-maiden of Gondor. Our city is honored with your bravery, Lady Melody of Rivendell, Keeper of the Trees."

Mel smiled and saluted him back in the same way, though it felt a bit awkward to her. But it seemed to please Faramir. He gave Boromir a very pointed look.

"I hope, brother, that you have left nothing unsaid that you would later regret." He said.

Boromir smiled at Mel and took her hand, kissing it gently, "You've nothing to fear on that account, Faramir. My mind has been spoken."

Mel blushed, but she smiled. Faramir's face looked like it might split in half.

"Ha! Well then, to battle with all of us! And may we live to hear our children's children tell about it!"

He handed Mel the reins to a horse and they all three mounted and rode out of the stable toward the Great Gate. The brothers called out orders and encouragement to the soldiers around them and many cheered or saluted as they rode past. Their very presence seemed to give hope to the soldiers where none had been before.

They reached the gate and Mel realized they weren't the only ones there. All of the lords of Gondor had gathered on the wall and seemed to be waiting for the Steward's sons. They dismounted and climbed the stairs, Boromir and Faramir clasping hands with all of the lords and muttering greetings and encouragement. Mel tried to hang back out of the way, but one of the lords sought her out.

"Well met, Melody of Rivendell." Lord Hirluin said, his blue eyes shining as he clasped her hand, "I admit, I did not expect to see you here this day."

Mel wasn't sure what to say, "I'm just as capable as anyone, Lord Hirluin." She said, trying not to sound too proud.

The lord nodded, "Indeed you are."

"What's this?" Lord Forlong lumbered over, clad in the armor of Gondor with a battle ax slung over one shoulder. He looked like a much larger version of Gimli, which made Mel smile.

"Do you join us in glorious battle this morning, Lady Melody?" He asked, clasping her hand firmly and smiling as if this were the best day of his life.

"It would seem so, Lord Forlong." She said, his excitement almost infectious.

"And a finer sword-maiden never graced these walls!" Lord Forlong said, kissing her hand and winking at her from under his helmet.

Mel blushed, "Oh, I'm afraid that's not true. There is one greater than I who will defend this city. She just hasn't arrived yet."

The two men looked at each other perplexed for a moment, then seemed to content to just let the subject go.

"Lord Forlong, Lord Hirluin!" Boromir called and the lords turned to him, expectantly, "I would like your men to be spread out along the outer walls, ready for the ladders. Tell any that are not archers to stay down until the ladders are raised, no need to lose men needlessly to arrow fire."

The lords bowed and hurried away. The other lords all seemed to have received orders as well and scattered to command their men. Mel took a moment and went to the wall, putting her hands on the branches that crawled over the side from the Sentries.

"We are ready, Calenhiril." They said, still speaking in unison, as if one entity. Mel supposed they were now. There was no way to tell where one tree ended and another began.

"_I'm going to be right here with you."_ She said soothingly, though they didn't sound like they needed soothing. The leaves rustled in a wave that went all the way to the ground.

"_We are not afraid."_

"_I know. But I am."_

"Melody?"

Mel turned to Boromir. He looked concerned. She smiled, "It's fine. I was just checking in."

Boromir nodded. Mel turned back and looked out toward the Pelennor Fields. What she saw made her heart jump into her throat. The black wave rippled across the fields, a loud rhythmic boom echoing with every ripple. The black army was coming. She swallowed to try to dislodge the lump in her throat. This was nothing like Moria. There was nowhere to run. She would have to stand here and wait for that horrible blackness to finally reach them.

She felt Boromir's hand slip into hers, "You can go back." He whispered, so low that only she would hear, "No one will stop you. No one will say anything."

She gripped his hand tightly as she shook her head, "No. I can't go back." She looked up at him with what she hoped was grim determination and not terror, "I can't go back." She repeated.

Boromir nodded, then turned away, his hand slipping out of hers. Mel stayed where she was, putting a hand out to cover one of the tendrils of branch. It reached up and twined through her fingers.

"I can't go back." She whispered.

She didn't know how long she stood there, watching that dark wave ripple across the plains, slowly coalescing into a shape that looked more like an army than a blob. She saw the siege towers slowly rise up of the black mass. She thought she saw something flitting around above the army, swooping down and around like a giant black bird.

But it wasn't a bird. Mel knew it without having to wait to see it. It was the Witch-King of Angmar, the Lord of the Nazgul. She took deep steadying breaths. He wasn't her problem right now. He would be someone else's problem soon enough. She just needed to keep herself together, that was all. Just keep it together.

She looked around. There was activity all along the wall, men running back and forth, setting up positions, pulling what looked like large slings into place along the wall. Faramir was walking down one side of the wall, Boromir down the other, inspecting, making sure everything was in order, giving encouragement where it seemed warranted.

Mel pulled herself away from the Sentries and walked down the wall toward Boromir. She noticed that a few of the men glanced up at her as she walked by. She was sure that none of them had expected to see her there. She wondered how many of them thought that the rumors about her trying to assassinate the Steward were true. She wondered how many of them thought she was a witch. Were there any that thought she might just be a normal person like everyone else? She doubted it. After all, she wasn't really "normal" anymore. She hadn't been normal for a long time. She wondered if there were any of these men who weren't afraid of her.

She caught up with Boromir, who gave her a questioning look.

"OK if I just follow you around?" she asked.

He seemed to give it some thought, then he nodded, "Of course. I would prefer you to stay close to me anyway."

Mel thought that was quite a coincidence since she preferred he stay close to her too. Boromir turned back and continued to walk the wall, Mel following behind him. She noticed that the men he spoke to were very careful not to look at her when Boromir was speaking to them, but the second he turned his back, she was always given a glance before they returned to their work. Most of them simply seemed curious, nothing more. A few seemed suspicious of her, watching her until she had walked past before going back to their tasks. None were openly hostile, but she wondered if that was because of her close proximity to their Captain.

The hostile looks made her wonder about Vanion. Where was he? How many of these men were his friends? Had the assassination rumors been started by him? Of course there was no way to know for sure, but that sounded just like him. Mel felt a sting of anger that she hadn't been able to kill him when she'd had the chance, but immediately regretted the thought. There was going to be enough death in the days ahead without wishing for more.

They reached the end of the wall and had turned to walk back to the gate, when one of the men reached out and touched Mel's arm. She jumped and the young soldier jerked back, lowering his eyes apologetically.

"I'm sorry, my lady, forgive me, but I must know, are you the one so much has been spoken of? The woman who fights like a man and commanded our trees to defend our gates? The one called Melody of Rivendell?"

Mel hesitated, then straightened her shoulders and held her head high, "I am."

The young man stood up straighter when she said that, "Then I salute you, my lady." He put his fist over his chest and bowed, "You have done a great service for our city, and I am honored to fight alongside you." He reached out then and took her hand in a firm grip, "Thank you."

Mel didn't know what to say. She was overwhelmed by the young man's words. She had done almost nothing, but he was so grateful. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she held them back. She couldn't let these soldiers see her cry like a stupid girl. Instead she returned the young man's handshake.

"No, thank you." She said, "For everything."

He nodded, then turned back to his work. She turned away and Boromir was smiling at her.

She walked up to him and whispered so only he would hear, "If you told him to say that, I'm going to throw you off this wall in front of all these men."

Boromir looked genuinely hurt, "Of course I didn't, Melody. Why do you think I would do this?"

"To try to make me feel better." She muttered.

Boromir brushed her hand with his fingertips, "I would never deceive you, not even to ease your troubled mind. What that man said came from his own heart. He received no prompting from me."

Mel believed him. After all, he knew her better than to do something like that. She nodded, "OK."

But that wasn't the only incident. As they walked back down the wall, others reached out for Mel's hand or saluted her, thanking her and saying how honored they were to serve with her. Mel was overwhelmed. Never in her life had she ever thought anything she would do would mean so much to so many people. It was humbling. She had done so little and these men were going to sacrifice so much. There was nothing more she could do for them, but if there had been, if she had been holding anything back, she would have given it then, to see them all safe.

They finally reached the Great Gate again, where Faramir was waiting, along with Gandalf, the large, scruffy Lord Duinhir and Prince Imrahil. Mel had seen only a little of the prince since she had come here, but he had always treated her with respect and she liked him for that. He gripped Boromir's hand in greeting, then Mel's.

"Well met, Melody of Rivendell." He said, his voice deep and commanding, "I had wondered if you would be joining us for this day of battle."

"I could not get her to stay behind, uncle, though I tried." Boromir said, grinning.

"Of course you couldn't." Gandalf said, leaning on his staff, "It would take a greater man than you, Boromir of Gondor, to cause Mel to stray from her chosen path. I think perhaps there is no man so great as could accomplish that."

The wizard smiled kindly at Mel when he said that and Mel smiled back. She liked the new Gandalf much more. He seemed to understand her better. She was glad. She had never liked being at odds with him.

Gandalf turned to the east and his face became grave once more, "The enemy comes." He said.

They all turned to watch the approaching army. They were much closer now. Mel could hear the sounds of their stomping feet, the beating of the drums, the screeching of the wheels as the siege machines were rolled ever closer to the wall.

"They will attack the gate." Prince Imrahil said, "They will know that is our weakest point."

"They will try to distract us from it though." Boromir said, his eyes roving over the vast army slowly rolling closer, "They have the numbers for it. They will set up attacks all along the wall. We will have to hold them back."

"Don't aim for the machines." Mel said, causing everyone to turn to her, "Don't aim for the machines," she repeated, "Aim for the trolls. The trolls are what power the machines. If you can take them down, you stop the machines."

Gandalf nodded, "Wise advice, Mel."

That made Mel grin, "I know." She said, "It was yours."

The stunned look on the wizard's face was so good that it took everything Mel had to keep from laughing. She wondered if all the fear and adrenaline was making her delirious.

Boromir turned to Lord Duinhir, "Tell your sons to have your archers shoot for the trolls when possible. Take down the trolls."

Lord Duinhir saluted and ran down the wall to repeat the orders. Boromir turned back to Mel.

"Any other wise advice you would care to share with us, Melody?" he asked.

Mel looked at Gandalf. He said nothing and his face remained neutral.

"Only this." She replied carefully, "When the black ships come, don't panic."

"The black ships?" Prince Imrahil asked.

"On the Anduin." Mel said, "You'll have to trust me on this, but don't panic, it just means it's almost over."

The prince looked like he might ask more, but Gandalf took that moment to give him a withering look. Prince Imrahil held the gaze for only a few moments before he bowed and turned away. Even a great Lord of Gondor has his limits.

Faramir smiled and clapped Mel on the shoulder, "I think my brother might have underestimated your usefulness to us today, Mel." He said jovially.

Mel tried to smile back at him, but all she could think was, _He shouldn't even be here. _Something must have shown on her face, because Faramir's face turned grave in an instant.

"Mel, what is it?" he murmured, looking around. They were alone now. Gandalf had pulled Boromir aside and they appeared to be discussing some sort of last minute strategy.

Mel shook her head, "Nothing. Just so much is different from what I knew before. I'm not really sure what's going to happen now."

Faramir smiled kindly at her, "Then you are no different than any of us."

He squeezed her shoulder before he turned to join his brother's discussion with Gandalf. But his words resonated with Mel. For the first time, she was at a point in the story where she should have known the outcome. But she didn't. She was completely in the dark. The story had been changed and now she wasn't quite sure what would happen next.

She looked around her at the soldiers staring out onto the plains, waiting for the black army that would soon be upon them, wondering whether they would live to tell their children and grandchildren about this battle. How many would live that might have died? And how many would die that might have lived? What was the cost and what was the gain? The ramifications of her actions were so much wider than she had ever thought possible. It made her head spin. How was she supposed to live her life here knowing that everything she did could result in the collapse of an entire civilization?

No, maybe she was giving herself too much credit. She was just one woman. One scared woman in a place that she didn't belong. But that wasn't really true either. Because she had never felt more like she belonged than she did here in Minas Tirith. This city felt more like home to her than anywhere she had ever lived. But she didn't think that really had anything to do with the city itself.

She glanced over and caught Boromir watching her, his eyes concerned. Her heart melted and she smiled at him. He loved her. And she loved him. And that was what felt like home to her. And she didn't see how anything so beautiful could be a mistake. One of the men called to him and his eyes were pulled from hers, but that had been all Mel needed to bring her back. She might not know what was going to happen. And her actions might have changed how the story would be told. But she knew, right then, that she would not go back and change what she had done.

She turned toward the advancing army and just like everyone else, she waited.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Mel had no idea it took so long to set up a freaking siege!

The enemy had arrived and she had expected chaos to erupt immediately. But that hadn't happened. The army had stopped short of the gates, just out of reach of the slings, which she learned were actually called trebuchets. And then, they'd decided to take what felt like the longest amount time in the history of any battle ever to set up their siege machines and catapults. Mel watched with her heart in her throat as orcs scurried about and trolls lumbered around doing God only knew what.

She fidgeted, she twitched, she even paced until Boromir finally gave her a look that stopped her in her tracks. Then she stood beside him and tried, quite unsuccessfully, to stay still. Finally, Boromir took her hand and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"You're going to make the men nervous, Melody."

She swallowed, "Sorry. It's just, this isn't what I thought was going to happen. Is there always this much waiting?"

His face softened into what was almost a smile, "Not always. Do not be so anxious for the beginning, when soon you will long for the end."

Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple, "I love you." He whispered.

Mel almost forgot to respond. He had kissed her. In public! It was almost enough to make her forget there was about to be a battle. Almost.

"I love you too." She whispered back, squeezing his hand.

Then he took his hand from hers and took a walk along the wall, murmuring words of calm and encouragement to the men he passed. Mel caught Faramir's eye. He was grinning like an idiot. Mel rolled her eyes. She was glad that he was about to find his own girl, otherwise, she could see him becoming a lovably annoying, nosy little brother.

Suddenly Gandalf was beside her, "So it seems your choice is made."

Mel shivered, "When it comes, I'll make it, not before. Don't make me choose before my time."

Gandalf looked down and Mel saw something in his face that she had never seen before, at least not when he was looking at her. It was respect.

He nodded, "Very well, Melody Calenhiril. It seems you have grown a little wiser since I knew you before my fall."

"A lot has happened since then." Mel said. Then she decided to ask something that had been bugging her for a while. "How do you know that name?"

The wizard gave her an innocent look, one eyebrow raised quizzically, but Mel wasn't fooled for one second.

"Calenhiril." She said, "How do you know that name? I haven't told that name to anyone."

Gandalf smiled, "Saruman knew it. Why would you believe me to have any less knowledge than he?"

Mel twitched when he mentioned Saruman and she felt a phantom ache in her ribs. Gandalf's face softened.

"I am sorry for what has happened to you, Mel." He said, "I understand it better than I did before, and I am sorry. You should know that before we face death together."

Mel nodded, "Thank you, Gandalf. I know I haven't been easy on you. So thank you."

Then the Nazgul let out that terrifying scream that made Mel's blood freeze and the Enemy's army roared in answer. Loud creaks and rumbles followed as the siege machines finally started to move.

Boromir was suddenly on the wall beside her, Faramir at his side.

"Steady!" Boromir cried, "Steady, Men of Gondor! Face the enemy that has threatened your lands with courage and hope! Let this day be a day that our children sing songs about!"

The rumble of the machines drew closer and closer. Mel watched it happen, watched giant beasts pull catapults closer to the walls, followed by trolls straining under the weight of the towers that they pulled, covered in metal plates. She watched and she waited.

The machines rolled to a halt once more. In that pause, Boromir put the Horn of Gondor to his lips and gave a blast that echoed across the Pelennor Fields and made all other noise cease. For the first time in hours, there was complete silence. And in that silence Boromir's voice rang out.

"Servants of the Enemy! Hear me! I am Boromir, Captain of the White Tower of Gondor! You have invaded my lands, destroyed my people, and now you threaten my city, which I hold most dear. Now hear this. Turn back! Return to your Master in his Dark Tower and risk his wrath! For I swear to you on the tombs of my fathers, should you advance any further against the White City, not one of you will live to bring him word of your failure! For this place is defended and we will not yield to darkness!"

There was a roar as every man in Minas Tirith cheered. Mel felt her heart soar. There was no doubt, the man could make a speech.

When the cheers died away, there was a pause. Then Mel heard a shout somewhere on the field, just a single word that put terror in her heart.

"Catapults!"

Boromir drew his sword and Mel followed his lead, as the orcs on the ground swarmed over the machines that were scattered over the plains. Then before Mel could even blink, boulders flew through the air and collided with the parapets directly behind them. Stone crumbled as if it were made of clay and shards flew through the air. Everyone ducked and covered their heads to avoid the debris.

Boromir and Faramir were the first to their feet. There was only a nod between them before they split up, each down a different side of the wall, shouting commands perfectly in sync.

"Fill the trebuchets!

"Give them arrow fire!"

"Aim for the trolls, find a weakness!"

Mel scrambled up and ran after Boromir, watching as archers notched their bows and let a cloud of arrows fly into the horde below. There were screams of agony as orcs dropped in waves, and roars of pain as the arrows pierced the thick hide of the trolls, who were once again pulling the siege towers closer to the walls of Minas Tirith. Then the Gondorian soldiers let their own boulders fly, thumping and rolling to the ground, crushing anything in their path. The battle had begun.

"Keep steady! Aim for the eyes!" Boromir said, as the archers prepared to release another wave of arrows.

But the black arrows reached them first and Mel ducked behind the wall to avoid them. She wasn't as well protected as the men in armor were. And even still she heard screams as some of the arrows found their marks and men fell and were dragged back out of the way by their fellow soldiers.

Mel wasn't hurt, but she felt a strange sensation, a scattering of pricks along her arms and chest. It felt like a small swarm of mosquitoes had bitten her. She pulled back the sleeve of her shirt. There was nothing there, but she felt the tiny pinpricks all along her skin. She rubbed her arms to dispel the feeling, then pulled down her sleeve. There was nothing she could do about it now. She would have to figure it out later.

She pulled herself up and continued to follow after Boromir, making sure to keep him in her sight. She couldn't lose him. She didn't know what might happen if she did. Arrows were flying back and forth now, no pausing or rhythm to it. Boulders were soaring over them, knocking down towers that she was sure had stood for years upon years, men were screaming as arrows found chinks in their armor and they were pulled aside to allow others to take their place. She could hear the roars of the trolls as wave after wave of arrows pierced their thick skins. If they couldn't stop them, they were at least making the journey to the wall as painful as possible. And every so often, Mel would feel another prick in her skin, another bite of pain. She kept looking down to see if something was actually biting her, but there was nothing that she could see.

She scrambled along the wall, feeling a heart-stopping fear whenever she was exposed above the wall, vulnerable to arrows and debris that might come flying her way. Suddenly a man cried out and fell right in front of her, an arrow lodged in the space between his shoulder and breast plate. That single cry was the only sound he made, then he gritted his teeth and lay on his back silent. Mel knelt beside him. He looked and reached out his uninjured arm to her.

"Please, my lady, would you help me just to the other side there?"

Mel was overwhelmed. Even in the middle of battle he was still polite! She took his hand and pulled, so that he was half crawling, half dragged to the other side of the wall, where he leaned back, gasping.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know that had to hurt." Mel said, trying to help him sit up and looking at the wound, even though she knew nothing about injuries. The soldier waved away her apologies.

"Not so much as it would have if I were alone." He said, his breath coming back to him, "Now leave me. I will rest here a while."

Mel hesitated, but when she looked up she realized Boromir was almost out of sight down the wall. She turned back to the injured soldier one more time.

"I'm sorry. I really am." She said. Then she left and she didn't look back because she was afraid of what she would see.

She caught up with Boromir just as he turned to head back toward the gate. He gave her a glance, but he didn't say anything. Mel followed behind him.

Then, there was that horrible shriek, floating in the air above them.

"Nazgul!" Someone screamed.

The soldiers around her scattered. Boromir turned and grabbed Mel, pulling her down and pressing her against the wall as the black beast swooped down over the wall, screeching and spreading its claws for anything within reach. It grabbed one of the trebuchets, pulling it apart like it was made of tinker-toys. The men on the wall panicked, dashing for any kind of cover. Everything was chaos. Boromir stood up tall.

"Stay at your posts!" He cried, "Do not give in to fear! Hold, Men of Gondor!"

Just the sound of his voice seemed to be enough to break through the panic. The soldiers fell back into place, taking aim at the black beast that flew above them and showering it with arrows. It squealed and wheeled away, back toward the dark army. Boromir reached out his hand and pulled Mel to her feet.

"Back to the gate." He said.

But before they could move a tremendous roar echoed across the battle. Mel and Boromir both turned toward the sound just as the troll that had roared stumbled and fell. The boom of his collapse was louder than any thunder Mel had ever heard. She could see orcs surround the beast, beating it with whips and for a moment the troll seemed to struggle, then it went still. The remaining troll only paused for a moment to glance at his comrade before he turned back and started pushing the siege tower alone, though it was much slower going now. Mel had only one thought. They had done it. They had brought down one of the trolls! If they could bring down one…

But Mel's small flicker of hope was soon doused. Boromir's attention was on the other siege towers, one of them dangerously close to the wall. He started running, Mel following in his wake. As they ran, Boromir pulled any men that weren't firing arrows with him. Then just as they reached the wall, the tower clanged open and orcs exploded out of it, chittering and cackling maniacally. Mel heard battle cries as men and orcs crashed together, then everything was a blur. She remembered her sword in her hand and then it was as if her mind stopped working and her body took over. She whirled through the orcs coming at her, slicing and stabbing, cutting down any black creature that stood in her path. She struggled forward into the fight and finally her mind came back to her with a single thought.

_Where is Boromir?_

She spun in a circle, suddenly disoriented, not sure what direction she had been coming from or which way she had been going. Everything was a clash of black and silver as the soldiers of Gondor fought to contain the orcs still pouring out of the siege tower. There seemed to be no end to the hideous faces. Everywhere she turned another loomed before her, narrowly missing her head or limbs before being cut down like the others before it. But no matter where she looked, she couldn't find him. Boromir was gone.

She fought the panic that tried to crawl up her throat. Had she lost him, really lost him? If these gross black monstrosities had made her lose him now… She felt a burning fury course through her at the thought. She cried out in anger and charged the orcs closest to her, cutting through them in a raging flurry. She had lost Boromir and they would give him back to her. She bumped into something and whirled on it, only just stopping her downward swing. Boromir faced her in the same stance, his eyes wide. Mel felt a wave of relief, then pushed it away. There was no time.

"I watch your back, you watch mine." She said. Boromir nodded. Then together they turned and faced the enemy once more.

It was a flurry of coordination that Mel was certain they would never be able to duplicate in any other circumstances. No orc could approach them without finding the end of a sword. Where Mel's sword failed, Boromir's swooped in and took over. Where Boromir's defense was exposed, Mel stepped up and covered it. They whirled and weaved together, almost dancing their way through the orcs still flowing from the siege tower.

Finally, several of the archers stepped up onto the wall itself and began firing arrows into the tower, essentially clogging the exit with dead orcs before they could ever climb out. It slowed the onslaught, but Mel could see the archers fall off the wall, exposed to enemy arrow fire by their bravery. It gave her just a second to take a breath and glance around.

Orcs were everywhere. Another tower had reached the wall on the opposite side of the gate and Mel thought she could glimpse Faramir and Gandalf trying to beat back the orcs that were shoving their way out. More soldiers were running onto the wall, but Mel could see that a third tower was just one good shove from being on the wall as well. They were hopelessly outnumbered. Suddenly she understood how Denethor had come to despair. She didn't know how much of this she could handle. She was already starting to feel tired.

Then another charge of the orcs distracted her and she sprang into action again, letting her mind go and her body take over, her training and practice telling her what to do. Orcs and men fell all around her, but she didn't allow herself to think about that. The only thing she saw was the next opponent.

She had just gutted the last orc that immediately challenged her, when she heard a loud thud. Her skin shivered with the sound. It raised goosebumps on her arms. There was another thud and this one vibrated through her whole body. The third thud made her stumble. She grabbed the wall to keep upright.

"Melody?" Boromir was suddenly beside her, his face concerned, "Melody, what is it? You're so pale."

Mel took a breath and tried to steady herself, "I'm fine…"

There was another thud and this one took her breath away. She gasped and held onto the wall with both hands trying to stay on her feet. Boromir put his arm around her waist.

"You are most certainly not fine." He said, his face grim, "I'm taking you off the wall."

"No!" Mel gasped, "No, I have to stay…"

Another thud rocked her, and she almost fell, but Boromir pulled her to her feet and started dragging her toward the stairs. Another thud and Mel was finally able to cry out.

"What is that?" she screamed in a strangled gasp, as another thud rattled her to the core, "What's that noise?"

"It is the gate." Boromir replied, "The orcs are attempting to breach the gate using a…"

He pulled up short, which made Mel's heart jump in panic. She looked up. A realization had dawned on Boromir's face, and it did not seem to have been a pleasant conclusion. Then another thud echoed and Mel gritted her teeth to keep them from rattling.

"What?" she asked, "Boromir, what is it?"

He looked down at her, his face grim, "The trees." He said, "They are trying to breach the trees. With a battering ram."

Another thud and Mel was suddenly keenly aware of what was happening. It wasn't her pain she was feeling.

"Take me to them." She said.

"Melody, I…"

"Take me there!"

Another thud and Mel gritted her teeth and bore it. She had to.

Boromir didn't say anything else. He just tightened his grip and changed direction. They walked along the wall, the sounds of men in pain and dying all around them, arrows and boulders flying over head. But Mel had only one thing in mind. She had to get to the Sentries.

Finally, they reached the gates. Archers stood along the wall and fired downward, and Mel could hear the screeches of the orcs as they fell under the arrows of Minas Tirith. She saw Lord Duinhir directing his men on the wall, his large body pacing back and forth, firing well placed arrows into the horde below. Mel left Boromir's support behind and stumbled forward. She had to see.

"Melody!"

She heard Boromir cry out, but she ignored him. She reached the opposite wall just as another thud from below reverberated through her being. She gasped and held onto the wall for dear life. She reached out and grasped one of the tendrils of branches that had crawled up the wall, gripping it tightly. Then she looked down.

Through the leafy green barrier that covered the gate, she could see scatterings of black shafts sticking out. She rubbed her arms. The pinpricks she had felt there stung even now. A group of orcs held a log as big around as Maltalda and as she watched, they ran toward the gate and bashed the battering ram into the solid wood of the Sentries. The resounding thud echoed and shuddered it's way through her entire being. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.

"_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."_

The branch that she had gripped tenderly wrapped around her hand.

"_We are strong."_ The words resounded in her head, but they felt forced and distant, "_We will stand."_

"Look out!"

Mel had barely heard the bellow of warning before a large pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and ripped her from the wall, flinging her below just as an arrow passed where she had been standing. She looked up into the eyes of Lord Duinhir. He smiled.

"Apologies, m'lady, but I believe this might not be the best time to indulge in communion with nature."

Another thud sounded below and Mel shivered. But Lord Duinhir didn't seem to notice. Boromir knelt beside them and Lord Duinhir seemed more than willing to pass her on to him.

"You should keep a closer eye on your sword maiden, Lord Boromir." Lord Duinhir said, as he tried to pass her hand over to Boromir.

Mel snatched her hand away from the big man and turned to him a fury flashing through her.

"I am a sword maiden of Gondor, Lord Duinhir," She said, "I am not a pet to be looked after."

Lord Duinhir's glittering black eyes tamed and he bowed reverently to her.

"Of course, Lady Melody." He said, before he walked away.

Another thud vibrated through the wall and it took everything Mel had not to react. The pain was real, but it was a dull ache and controllable now that she knew what was causing it. She took Boromir's hand and squeezed it.

"I'm alright now. It's not so bad."

Boromir didn't look completely convinced, but luckily he didn't have time to question her. Gandalf came running from the northern wall, breathless and looking slightly panicked.

"The gate?" He asked.

Mel pushed herself up until she was standing, trying to hold back the pain she felt with every strike of the battering ram.

"It holds." She said.

Gandalf's look of relief was fleeting, replaced by a piercing stare that made Mel wonder if something in her tone had given away her pain. But he said nothing.

"Mel!"

Pippin charged out from behind Gandalf and skidded to a stop, "Mel, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Mel asked, fighting back shock, "What the hell are _you_ doing here? You're supposed to be defending the Citadel!"

"They called us out to fight." Pippin said, brandishing his small sword covered in black orc blood.

Mel swallowed hard, then bit her tongue. He was so small. But she kept her thoughts to herself. After all, she was the last person on earth qualified to pass judgment on who should be here and who shouldn't. And really, Pippin was one of the few people on this wall that she knew actually should be here, though for an entirely different reason. Another thud below them made Mel stop worrying about the little hobbit long enough to concentrate on showing no signs of pain. It was getting a little easier with each strike.

There was a shout farther down the wall and everyone turned to look. Another siege machine had made it to the wall. Boromir reacted first, jumping up and running to meet the threat, followed by Gandalf. Pippin glanced at Mel. She looked him in his sweet little face, took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. Then together, the two most unlikely defenders of Men ran into battle


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The coming of night took Mel by surprise. There had been no time to think all day. Bits of bread, dried meat and fruit had been passed down the wall, eaten only when a spare moment could be found, which wasn't often. Mel didn't even have time to decide if she was tired, though she guessed she probably was. Between chasing Boromir, looking after Pippin, and trying to keep from getting killed, she had her hands pretty full. And always there was the pounding of the battering ram against the Sentries, vibrating through her bones, rattling her teeth, and making her midsection ache. Even when the battering ram didn't pound, her body throbbed. But she didn't have time to think about that. Pain was secondary to staying alive. The passing of time wasn't even on the priority list.

The first thing she noticed was that the assault by air had slowed considerably. There was an occasional flurry of arrows, but most of them had stopped. And the boulders from the catapults were few and far between now. There was a break in the fighting on the wall and Mel took the time to look out over the field. There was a glow over the orc army that hadn't been there before. Torches had been lit. That was when she first realized that what little light they had was fading. Night was falling on Minas Tirith. She took a deep breath and let it out. If they could just survive this night…

There was a sharp cry of pain that brought Mel crashing back to the present. She spun around, searching for the source of the cry and her heart stopped.

"Faramir!" Boromir yelled, lunging past her and running to his brother, who seemed to have sprouted a black shaft from his shoulder.

Mel's body froze while her mind raced. Was this it? Was this her choice? Had she missed her opportunity somehow? How could she possibly choose between Boromir and his brother? Surely the Valar would never be so cruel…

"It's alright, it's alright," Faramir gasped as Boromir put his arm around his brother's waist, "It's only my shoulder. I'll be alright."

"We must get you off the wall." Boromir said, his voice tense, but calm, "You must have a healer."

"Brother, I can walk." Faramir said, pulling away, "You must stay here. I will have my arm tended and be back as soon as I am able."

Mel's heart felt like it had been jump started. Faramir was pale, but his eyes were bright and he was walking under his own power. She was sure that a lot of his strength was from a combination of shock and adrenaline, but he wasn't dying. He'd just been hurt. She suddenly felt weak. She slowly and casually put her hand on the wall to support her shaking knees. How was she supposed to live like this, always waiting for an impossible choice? She didn't have the energy for this. She couldn't…

Boromir gave his brother a glance, as if to make sure he was really ok, then nodded, "Go."

Faramir stumbled down the stairs where he was met by other soldiers who accompanied him up the road toward the healers. There were others making their way toward the Citadel and not all of them were walking. Many were on makeshift stretchers. The lucky ones were unconscious, most writhed in agony. Some were left where they lay. Mel tried not to think about those. She couldn't. Not right now.

"The enemy is quiet." Gandalf said as he joined them on the wall.

Boromir turned toward the glow that hovered over the fields, the light gleaming on his face, streaked with black blood and lined with suspicion, "Yes, far too quiet."

"Maybe they're taking a breather."

Pippin's clear, upbeat voice at Mel's elbow made her jump. The little hobbit was also covered in orc blood, but his eyes shone. He had fought as bravely as anyone on the wall today.

Pippin looked around as everyone stared at him, "What? Even orcs have to rest sometime!" He glanced up at Mel and doubt flickered in his eyes, "Don't they?"

Mel didn't know what to say to him. They were horrifically outnumbered. They had thwarted the attempt of the siege machines to breach the walls, but she knew that had not been what the orcs had been relying on to breach the city. There hadn't been enough effort put into it. But she couldn't tell Pippin that. She just smiled and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her.

Then she realized the thud of the battering ram had stopped. She put a hand to her stomach. The pain had subsided, though there was still a dull ache from a day's worth of pounding.

"Melody?" Boromir was beside her in an instant, "What is it?"

"It stopped." She looked up at him, "The battering ram. It stopped."

Then a low thrum of sound started to echo up from the field, dark and sinister. It was the voices of the orcs. They were chanting and Mel felt a cold dread pulse through her with the sound.

"What's that?" Pippin asked, the scant trace of a tremble in his voice.

Mel gripped Pippin's shoulder tighter to keep from shaking. She knew what this was. And the terror she felt now paralyzed her. The chanting grew louder. Slowly, the men on the wall turned toward the sound. There was movement in the field and a bright glow slowly wound it's way through the blackness, closer and closer. The chanting began to echo across the plains and finally Mel could hear what they were saying, over and over.

"Grond! Grond! Grond!"

With each reverberating echo of the name, Mel felt panic pulse through her body. She dropped her arm from Pippin's shoulder and started walking, toward the gate.

"Mel?"

She heard Pippin's voice, heard the uncertainty and the fear. But she couldn't answer him. The chant had filled her head beyond the point of coherent thought.

"Melody…"

Boromir's voice echoed as she brushed past him. She couldn't stop. The gate. She had to reach the gate. She began to walk faster.

"Melody?"

"Mel!"

"Melody!"

She could hear the cries of Boromir, Pippin and Gandalf. She started to run, her name echoing behind her as they chased after her down the wall. But she couldn't stop. She had to get to the gate. Mindless of everything else, she pushed her way past the soldiers that blocked her way, ignoring the cries of surprise and concern that followed in her wake. She had to be with the Sentries. They needed her.

She reached the gate and someone took her arm gently, but firmly. She tried to pull away, but she couldn't break free. She looked up. Prince Imrahil was watching her, his soothing blue eyes unwavering.

"What is it, Lady Melody?" he asked. He could have been asking her the same question over the dinner table. There was no trace of concern or fear in his voice. It was a simple unadorned question. Mel felt a little of his calm seep into her and a little of her mind came back to her. She took a deep breath.

"Please," she said, "Please, stop them. Stop that thing."

The prince looked out across the plain and Mel followed his eyes. She could see it now, rolling toward them, a monster made of fire and metal. The great battering ram, Grond. It was pulled by two huge creatures that looked like mutated rhinoceroses and surrounded on all sides by a rippling sea of orcs. Trolls in spiky battle armor lumbered behind and following them was the Witch-king. He sat back on his flying beast, content to just let the battering ram do its job. Mel felt her her chest contract when she thought about what that meant. If she had felt the steady pound of the regular battering ram…

Prince Imrahil took only a moment to assess the situation, then began to give orders in the same calm voice that had brought Mel back to herself, albeit more loudly.

"Reset the archers! Pull in toward the gates! Set your sights on the beasts!"

Gandalf's voice joined him from behind her and Mel wondered when he had caught up to her.

"All swordsmen to the ground level! We'll form ranks at the gate!"

"Set the trebuchets!" Boromir called, his voice at Mel's side, "Bring down the trolls!"

People swirled around her and arrows flew back and forth over the wall. Several found their targets, but the giant rhinoceroses seemed to have hide thicker than tree bark. They roared with pain, but still pressed on, driven by orcs with merciless whips. Pieces of the destroyed masonry flew through the air and rolled into one or two of the trolls, but still they kept going. Their fear of their masters overruled the fear of death.

Mel watched it all feeling disconnected. Prince Imrahil had let go of her arm, walking the wall, repositioning archers. Boromir still stood at her side, but he was shouting orders and directing soldiers, as any good commander would. Mel felt like she was adrift in a sea of hopelessness, watching the inevitable unfold in front of her. Grond slowly but steadily moved forward toward it's goal. Mel reached out and put both her hands on the Sentries. The branches immediately twisted around her hands and held.

"_Forgive us, Calenhiril." _They said, _"Please forgive us."_

"_There is nothing to forgive." _She said, _"You must forgive me. You are the bravest beings I've ever met. You deserve so much more."_

"_There is no greater life than to give it up for what you love."_

Mel's heart swelled until she thought it might actually burst from her chest. She felt a single tear drip down her cheek. She was so ashamed of her own fear. She wasn't worthy to suffer with these two beautiful creatures. It wasn't right. She stopped her tears and gripped the branches tighter.

"_Alright." _She said,_ "Let's do this."_

Grond shuddered to a halt in front of the gates. Arrows still flew all around her and she could hear the cries of the injured and dying. The trolls grabbed ropes and began to pull. The flaming monster began it long, arduous journey backward. Mel looked into those blazing eyes and all her fear disappeared. There was nothing she could do. Nothing. The trolls pulled back until the ropes that held the beast strained with the tension. There was a pause.

Then they let go.

Mel screamed as fire coursed through her entire body and the most excruciating pain she had ever felt tried to split her in two. She was on fire, all of her, and every bone in her body had been shattered. She was crushed, crumpled like a piece of paper. And then a pulse burst out of her very core and green light exploded out of her and coursed down the length of the Sentries like a cluster of lightning. She gasped as the breath was knocked out of her. She had never felt anything like what she had just experienced. Whatever it was, it had worked. She still felt as if her skin was on fire, but the terrible crushing pain was gone. She could hear a terrible commotion below her, but she was too exhausted to care. All she could do was lean on the wall and try to breathe.

"Melody!"

Through the burning pain, she could barely register Boromir's arms as he wrapped his arms around her and helped hold her steady. She felt a stab of panic. She didn't know what had just happened, but she was sure she didn't want Boromir near her when it happened again.

"I'm alright," She lied, trying to hide that she was still catching her breath, "I'm alright. Just don't touch me. I don't want to hurt you."

"You are not alright!" Boromir said, angrily, "You have to stop this!"

She shook her head, "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. Let go of me, Boromir, please."

He hesitated, then she felt him let go. She pushed herself up on the wall and managed to look down. She could see the flames sparking and spreading through the leaves and branches of the Sentries. But the trunks were intact, as if nothing had happened to them. They were completely whole. Orcs were scurrying beneath her, squealing and chittering, looking at the Sentries in fear. Mel felt a smug sense of satisfaction, even through the pain.

_That's right, not just ordinary trees now…_

But the trolls were already pulling on the ropes again. The power of the Yavannacor was not nearly so frightening as the Lord of the Nazgul. Mel gripped the Sentries branches and gritted her teeth. She was prepared now. But when the flaming battering ram slammed into the tree trunks, she still screamed in agony as her ribs and lungs were crushed flat in her chest and her entire body went up in flames from the inside out. But again, a light pulsed somewhere deep inside of her and the Sentries were consumed by green lightning. The burning remained, but the crushing pain was gone.

This time Mel couldn't hold herself up anymore. She stumbled to her knees, held upright only by the branches still gripping her hands. Black spots blurred her vision and the act of drawing breath was exhausting. She was dying. The next blow would end her.

"Melody Calenhiril!"

Mel forced her eyes open. Gandalf was standing over her, a faint glow of white surrounding him. And he looked angry.

"Melody Calenhiril! Let go!" he commanded and his words held a power that she recognized, the same power that she had heard in the voices of the Valar. It was a voice that demanded obedience.

But Mel shook her head, "I can't…" She gasped, the words taking all her strength to say.

"You can and you will." the wizard ordered, "Let go!"

Mel closed her eyes. She was so tired.

"_Let go, Calenhiril."_

The voice of the Sentries floated up through her consciousness, quiet, reserved, and calm.

"_I can't." _She whispered, _"I don't know how."_

"_Let go, Calenhiril."_

She felt a tiny pinprick of light rise up out of the Sentries. It swirled toward her and she realized it was following a path, a fragile thread that linked her life to the lives of the Sentries. She hadn't even realized the link existed.

"_Let go, Calenhiril." _The Sentries whispered, _"There is much yet that you must do. Let go."_

Mel felt her heart break. They were going to die. They knew this. Mel could feel it. But they didn't want her to die with them. They wanted to free her. They were begging her to let them go. At first, Mel balked at the idea. They were hers. She had done this to them. She was supposed to take care of them. She was supposed to keep them safe. Then, she felt a cloud of warm comfort billow up and enfold her.

"_Let go…"_

Mel's heart broke.

"_I'm sorry." _She whispered to them, _"I'm so, so sorry."_

Then she broke the thread. It snapped back on her and she gasped. Her eyes flew open and she bolted up, straight into Boromir's arms. He held her tightly to his chest.

"It's alright," He whispered, "It's alright now."

There was a mighty crash that made the wall below her tremble. Mel flinched. But there wasn't any pain. She didn't feel anything but exhaustion.

Gandalf knelt on her other side and placed a hand on her forehead.

"One more blow and that would have been the end of you." He said gruffly.

Mel pulled back and looked at Boromir, trying to work up the strength to make a face that would adequately convey her displeasure.

"You brought Gandalf."

It wasn't a question and, to his credit, Boromir didn't insult her by trying to deny it.

"I had no choice. You were beyond reason."

"And well he should have brought me!" Gandalf exclaimed, "Your life is not something to be just thrown away. You of all people should know this."

Mel saw his eyes flicker briefly to Boromir's face. She swallowed as she thought through what had almost happened. If she had died, who would be here to make the choice, to save Boromir from his fate? Gandalf was right. Her death was not a trivial thing. She should have known better. She reached out and brushed Boromir's cheek.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, "I'm really sorry."

He took her hand and kissed it.

"There is no need." He whispered back.

There was another crash and Mel flinched again. Boromir's grip on her tightened and his eyes glanced over her, anxiety lining his brow.

"Are you still in pain?"

_Only because my heart is breaking… _Mel thought.

"No." She lied, "No, it doesn't hurt.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Boromir helped Mel off the wall and lowered her onto a stack of burlap sacks. The effort was exhausting, but Mel forced her face to remain blank. If she showed any signs of weakness she knew Boromir would force her to leave the defenses altogether. And that was unacceptable. She couldn't leave, not just because she needed to watch out for Boromir, but because she couldn't leave the Sentries. Every time the battering ram crashed against the gates, she still flinched. Her link to them was completely severed, and even if she had reached out again, she was sure they wouldn't have accepted her help. But her separation from them made her all the more determined to stay and see this battle through to the end, whatever end that might be.

Gandalf ordered water brought and Mel drank it, trying not to gulp it down. There was a small part of her that told her that would be a bad idea. She was also brought a loaf of bread and some dried meat. Someone pressed an apple into her hand.

"I know they're your favorite." Pippin said, smiling.

Mel was almost overwhelmed with the desire to pull the little guy up into her lap and hold him, but she knew that would probably hurt his pride more than anything so she resisted the urge. She just smiled and took a bite of the apple, forcing herself to chew it slowly and swallow before taking another bite.

Boromir sat by her side, examining everything she did. Every time she flinched, his grip on her hand tightened. Mel worked hard to stop flinching.

"I still think you should see the healers." He said when she had finished eating, "You are too pale."

But Mel shook her head, "Really, I'm fine. I feel much better."

She held his gaze and willed him to believe her. She didn't want to leave him. When would Mandos insist she make good on her debt? It could be any time. And she had to be with Boromir when that time came.

Boromir looked unhappy, but he didn't get a chance to voice his objections. One of Lord Duinhir's sons, dark and scruffy like his father, ran up to them and bowed. Mel thought his name was Durufin, but she wasn't sure.

"My lord, the trolls will not be felled and my men run short of arrows."

Boromir stood and Mel stood with him. He still held her hand and Mel felt a small thrill at this small display of his affection.

"Arrows I can supply. But if we do not take down the trolls, the city will be breached no matter how many arrows we loose. The gates must be secured."

"I will make sure the gates are supported from the inside." Gandalf said.

Boromir nodded, Very well, but it cannot hold for long against this strain."

As if to prove his point, there was another crash. Mel forced herself to stay steady, but inside she wanted to scream.

Boromir turned back to Durufin, his eyes burning into the young man, "Find a weakness. The eyes, the mouth, the neck, anything. We must stop this assault."

Durufin bowed and ran back to the wall, calling out orders to his men. Boromir drew his sword and turned to Gandalf.

"I will hold the wall. If the gate is breached…"

Gandalf nodded and rested a hand on Pippin's shoulder, "We will stand ready."

Boromir turned his eyes to Mel and she could see that he was asking her, one last time, to turn back. She met his eyes and drew her sword.

"Ready?" she asked, not a single tremor in her voice.

She thought a flicker of sadness passed over Boromir's face before it turned into a mask of grim determination. He nodded. Together they climbed to the wall and began the longest night of their lives.

If you'd asked her afterward, Mel couldn't have begun to tell you what that night was like. Most of it was a horrifying blur. Though most of the Enemy's efforts seemed to be concentrated on breaching the gate, there were still several thousand orcs attempting to scale the walls, either by rope or ladder. Mel found herself running after Boromir, back and forth along the wall, fending off assault after assault. Before long it seemed like an endless loop and Mel briefly wondered if this would go on forever, before she was thrust back into another fight for her life.

And over all of this was the constant pound of Grond, crashing again and again into the gates below them. Mel happened to catch a glimpse of the damage during a brief moment of quiet. The battering ram had finally punched through the last defense of the Sentries. Every leaf and branch that still remained was on fire, licking its way along the trunk, leaving no bit of wood unscathed. Through the smoldering hole she could see the gleaming metal of the gates. But it wasn't dented. The Sentries' sacrifice had served its purpose.

It had also given the men on the ground level time to put up support beams inside the gates. Under Gandalf's supervision, they had made sure the most support was given to the area that the battering ram consistently crashed into. It would hold a while longer.

Then the screams of dying men and the cackling of orcs brought Mel sharply back and she was running again, a small part of her grateful for the distraction. She didn't want to think about the Sentries, not yet, not while there was still so much to do. Instead she took all that pain and anger and fear, and flew into the next battle like a banshee, whirling through blood and clashing metal, taking down any orcs that dared to come within reach of her blade.

But that couldn't last forever and before too long, Mel felt What little energy she had left start to drain from her. The constant running and fighting were taking a toll that even her heightened adrenaline couldn't keep up with. She was slowing down, she could feel it. She tried to overcompensate, forcing herself to work harder and swing faster, but that did nothing more than make her wild and unpredictable, not always such a good thing. Her mind couldn't keep up and she found more and more that she was just barely missing having limbs severed. One orc even got so far as to catch her arm with the tip of his sword. It was only a little scratch, but the pain brought a sharpness back to her mind and she was able to kill him before he took another swing. As she took a moment to breathe and wrap up her arm, she had a moment of panic. Would this night never end?

As soon as she finished wrapping up her scratch, she slid down to sit at the base of the wall. If Sauron himself had appeared before her, she didn't think she could have stood to face him. She pushed at the strings of hair that were sticking to her forehead and tried to catch her breath. Boromir slid down beside her, covered in black blood and dripping with sweat. He glanced at her and saw the cloth wrapped around her arm.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sounding a little winded, which made Mel feel only the tiniest bit better.

She nodded, "It's just a scratch. You?"

He nodded, and then looked around them, "I fear I cannot say the same for all of us."

Mel kept her eyes down. She didn't want to look. She knew they were the lucky ones. Most of the men that had stood with them on the wall were battered and bruised, many sporting hastily tied bandages that were already soaked through with blood. Several were being helped off the wall with injuries too serious to allow them to continue. And then there were those that didn't move at all. That wasn't something Mel could think about for too long or she was afraid she might be overwhelmed by fear. That could be Boromir or Pippin. It could be her, lying on the stones, motionless. She couldn't think about it. She closed her eyes and tried to erase the images from her mind, but they seemed burned on the backs of her eyelids.

"If we can just get through this awful night…" she whispered.

There was another crash on the gate and she shuddered.

"Boromir! Boromir!"

Pippin's high-pitched, panicked cry cut through the fog that threatened to engulf Mel's mind. Her eyes snapped open as the hobbit skidded to a stop in front of them, panting and trying to form a coherent sentence.

"The gate… It's… It's going… The gate's buckling!"

In one smooth motion, Boromir pushed himself to his feet and ran toward the stairs, Pippin following in his wake, and Mel scrambling to catch up. They passed Prince Imrahil and Boromir ordered him to hold the wall, which he was doing admirably anyway, in Mel's opinion. Then they were running toward the gate, which Mel could see was clearly bending, even under the supports.

_No…_ she thought, _It's supposed to hold. We made it hold!_

If the gates were breached it was all for nothing. The Sentries' sacrifice, her pain at their loss, would all be for nothing. That couldn't be. It just couldn't.

Gandalf stood staring up at the gate, leaning heavily on his staff. In the gray light, he looked old and very tired.

"What's being done to hold the gate?" Boromir demanded, running his hands over the buckling beams that were supporting the sagging metal plates. The wizard didn't move.

"There is nothing more to be done." He replied calmly, "The Witch-king's power is strong and his will resolute. We have only to wait for his coming."

There wasn't any despair in Gandalf's voice. It was the voice of someone who had guessed his own fate and was resolved to face it, whatever it might be. Boromir took one look at the wizard and stepped back from the gate, his face set grimly.

"So be it."

Mel felt panic well up inside her and she tried to fight it down. There was nothing she could do. She had sacrificed the Sentries' lives, put them through unimaginable pain, and it was all for nothing. Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change. She closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears as hopelessness threatened to drown her.

A horn sounded in the distance. Mel's heart stopped. Slowly, she opened her eyes. No one moved. All the soldiers of Minas Tirith stood in complete stillness. There was hardly a breath. Boromir met Mel's eyes and held them. But nothing happened. Mel began to wonder if she had imagined it. Then she heard it again, a clear horn blast that rang through the cool morning air.

"The Rohirrim." Mel whispered. Then she started running, taking the steps up the wall two at a time, Boromir following at her heels. They reached the wall and faced east. There, just along the line of the horizon, Mel could see a dark rippling line against the light of the slowly rising sun. The Rohirrim. Rohan had finally come.

Boromir lifted his horn and blew an answering blast that echoed off the stone of the walls and seemed to reverberate through Mel's entire body, a rich, warm hum.

"The Rohirrim!" he cried, "Rohan has come! Rise, Men of Gondor! Rise and meet a bright new dawn!"

There was a roar as every soldier in the city let out a cheer. Mel's heart soared. Below them, the orcs that had been driving the battering ram shifted nervously. The trolls lowered their ropes and turned to the east. Several horns from the Rohirrim blasted in unison as the sun finally rose, filling the plains with gloriously blinding light.

The Witch-king gave a chilling scream and lifted into the air, turning and setting his beast toward the new threat. The orcs and trolls surrounding the gates broke ranks and scattered, rushing to follow their captain. Chaos spread through the army of Morder, confusion sending them running in every direction, turning from the battered walls of the White City to the line of riders to the east. The Rohirrim roared and there was a sound like thunder as the horses galloped down the hill and charged into the unprepared orc army, sweeping through them as if they were blades of grass.

The siege of Minas Tirith was over. The Battle for the Pelennor Fields had begun.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter is kind of short, guys. Next chapter will make up for it, I promise! ;)


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Mel watched with awe from the top of the wall. The Rohirrim spread out and split the enemy, one group surrounding the outside edge of the army, another making their way toward the walls of the city, cutting a huge path before they were ground to a halt. Boromir ran by her and that brought her mind back to the city.

"Keep aim! Bring them down!" He shouted at the archers still on the wall, who seemed as stunned as she had been. But Boromir's voice brought them back and they immediately took aim and began to fire at the closest orcs that had turned toward the new battle on the horizon, picking them off while their attention was divided.

Mel looked out over the field again and saw a cloud of dust coming from the south. The Haradrim were coming. They would be here in minutes.

"Boromir!" she cried, running after him and grabbing his arm.

He looked where she pointed and nodded tersely. Then he went to Prince Imrahil and took his arm, getting his uncle's attention and pointing to the rapidly growing cloud of dust to the south.

"We must ride out to meet them." Boromir said, "The defenses will not last on a divided front for long."

The Prince glanced at the tendrils of blackened wood that still clung to the wall, then looked at Mel, "Will the gates open for us, my lady?"

It took a second for Mel to realize what he was asking. Did the Sentries have enough life left in them to allow the soldiers passage to the field? That meant to she would have to reach out them. And she was afraid to do that. She was afraid of what she might find. Or what she might not find. She glanced up at the two men now staring at her. She wanted desperately for someone to tell her she didn't have to do this, that it wasn't really necessary. But it was. And she knew that it was. So she took a deep breath, walked over to the wall, and steeling her nerves, reached out and touched the blackened branch.

At first, she didn't feel anything and she thought she was going to throw up. They were dead. There was nothing left, nothing she could do. But she took another breath and dove down deeper, determined to be absolutely sure. As she probed down into the heart of the trees, she felt a tiny spark. She latched onto that spark like it was the last light left on earth. Slowly, painstakingly, she drew it out until it became a faint, but steady glow. Then gently, she spoke to it.

"_Sentries?"_

At first there was no answer. Mel didn't know what to do. She didn't want to press the poor things into anything they weren't ready for, but she could feel the pressure of time and she needed answers. She was about to dig deeper and try again, when a small voice called out to her.

"_Calenhiril?"_

A single voice. Not the strange dual voices that had been so strong and brave, that had stood without fear against an army and the fires of hell. Just one, small, trembling voice.

"_Calenhiril?"_ It called again, _"What has happened? I am alone. Why am I alone?"_

Mel felt tears trickle down her cheek. Because she knew. And it wasn't fair. The Sentries hadn't survived. At least, not both of them.

"_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."_ She whispered gently.

She could feel the confusion, the fear, the desperation as the voice spoke, _"Where is he? Where is my brother? Why am I alone? I have never been alone. Calenhiril?"_

She tried her best to calm the lone Sentry before he brought them both spiraling down into hysteria. But she didn't know what to say to him. It wasn't fair, to rip the Sentries apart, to let one live without the other. It wasn't right.

"_I really am sorry."_ She said, _"But I need your help. Please."_

There was a pause and Mel was afraid for a moment that she had lost him. But after a moment, he replied and his voice was steady.

"_What must I do, Calenhiril?"_

"_We need to get through the gates."_ Mel said. She let that sink in for a moment. She didn't want to ask him to do what was necessary for them to get past. And she didn't have to.

"_I will have to let go."_ He said, and Mel knew he was talking about his brother. He would have to untwist himself from his brother's branches. He would have to let go.

"_Yes. I'm so sorry."_

He only paused for a moment before he answered her, _"I will do it."_

Mel felt a knot of anxiety release inside of her.

"_Calenhiril? Do what I cannot. Avenge us."_

Mel found a burst of warmth inside of her and sent it to him. She imagined it was the equivalent of a hug, _"I will. I swear to you, I will."_

Then, she let go, but kept the tie between them intact. There was no danger to her anymore. And she couldn't bear to leave him. He had no one else. She looked up and only Boromir stood with her, looking anxious. She nodded.

"We can pass."

He looked confused, "They still live? Then why do you weep?"

She quickly brushed away the tears that clung to her face.

"They didn't both live." She said.

She tried not to let her voice tremble, but it didn't work. She could feel her heart being pulled apart.

"They've never been parted, Boromir. What is he supposed to do now? He's all alone. It isn't fair."

Boromir didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Life isn't fair. Mel knew that better than anyone, she guessed. He just reached out and took her hand.

"Come," he said, "The lords are gathering."

Mel nodded, still wiping her face to stop her tears. She took a deep breath and together they left the wall and went to the gate, where the lords of Gondor and Gandalf stood waiting. They all looked so tired, but their faces were bright. Lord Forlong looked especially jovial and as they approached he strode forward, took Mel's hand and kissed it heartily, despite the fact it was covered in orc blood and grime.

"You're gifts are treasures, Lady Melody." He proclaimed, "We are forever in your debt!"

"Let us not dole out debts so soon, Lord Forlong." Said Lord Hurin, though he didn't look quite so sourly at her as he had before, "There is still a battle to be won."

"Quite so." Said Gandalf, "And the city must remain defended."

"I leave the care of the city to you and Lord Hurin, Mithrandir." Said Boromir, "Lord Duinhir and his archers will cover us from the wall."

"My sons would like to take some of our people and ride out with you as well, Lord Boromir." Lord Duinhir said, his sons nodding beside him, "I believe we can spare the men."

Boromir nodded, "Very well. Lord Golasgil, you and your men will remain and help to defend the gate once it is opened."

The thin faced man nodded, trying to hide how relieved he was.

"The rest of us shall gather as many men as can be spared and go to the aid of our brothers, the horse-lords."

"Perhaps it would be wiser if you were to head the defense of the city, Lord Boromir, and I…" Hurin started to suggest, but Boromir fixed him with an icy stare.

"I will not remain behind these walls while the lords of another land defend my city. You will remain, Lord Hurin, and defend the city in my absence. Is that clear?"

Lord Hurin bowed his head in agreement, though he looked disappointed at the thought of staying behind. Mel felt sorry for him, which was a new feeling for her. So while the other lords went to gather their men and Boromir was in conference with Gandalf, Mel walked over to Lord Hurin.

"For what it's worth," she said bluntly, gaining Lord Hurin's attention, "I don't think Minas Tirith could be left in better hands than yours, Lord Hurin."

His eyes widened in surprise and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally responded, "Thank you, Lady Melody."

She gave him one sharp nod, then walked away, not wanting to make him feel like he needed to say any meaningless sentiments in return. That wasn't the point. The point was he loved this city as much as Boromir or anyone else did and she thought he deserved something for that. She caught Gandalf's eye as she walked by. He was smiling at her. He nodded once in approval, then turned away. Mel looked for Boromir and found him talking to a stable boy. Mel realized that she recognized the boy. It was Bergil. He bowed low as she joined them.

"Greetings, my lady." He said.

"Hello, Bergil." She said, smiling. She had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair the way she did Pippin's.

Then she realized that Boromir held the reins to two horses. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. She had been expecting the same fight they always had, he would forbid her going, then she would go anyway. It had become routine by now.

Boromir handed her a set of reins, "Time is of the essence and it is pointless to argue with you."

Mel took the reins.

"Thank you." She said and she meant for so much more than the reins.

Bergil held their bridles as they mounted and then together they rode to the gate. Men were lining up in ranks, separated by their respective regions. Mel could tell which men belonged to which lord by their garb. Lord Forlong's people were primarily armed with huge axes that mimicked their lord's. Lord Duinhir's sons led a band of archers as large as they were, many with the same unruly dark hair. Prince Imrahil's men were the most impressive by far, all in shining silver armor and blue cloaks with swans emblazoned on them. Then Mel caught the bright blue eye of Lord Hirluin, dressed in his signature forest green, along with the men that followed him. They exchanged nods. When Mel saw all the men gathered together in the main courtyard, she thought they actually looked quite impressive. This was no small band of survivors. This was an army.

She turned back to the gates and reached out in her mind for the lone Sentry. She could feel his glow in her mind and she felt a jolt of pain as he worked to unravel himself from the immobile branches of his brother, making room for the soldiers of Minas Tirith to pass. She could tell he was almost through.

Then there was a cry from the wall, "The king! The king of Rohan! He has fallen! Lord Theoden has fallen!"

The men of Gondor shifted and murmured uneasily. Boromir looked at Mel, his face a blank mask. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

"Is it done?" he asked.

Mel reached out one more time to the Sentry, feeling out his branches, making sure he was completely clear. She didn't want any more damage done to him, not even on accident. Once she was sure he had pulled away, she opened her eyes.

"Yes, we are ready." She said, and her voice held the voice of the last Sentry in it, giving it that dual quality that she had heard when the Sentries had spoken together. It reverberated through the courtyard and the men fell silent in it's wake. Boromir turned to them and raised his sword.

"Men of Gondor, soldiers of the West, brothers all! Today, we fight for freedom! We fight for our children and our children's children! May our deeds on this bright new day be such that our songs will be remembered in time out of mind! For Gondor!"

"For Gondor!" the men roared and Mel roared it with them, her own sword in the air. The energy in the air was intoxicating and adrenaline pumped through her. Boromir turned his horse, grabbed Mel's hand and pressed a fervent kiss to her palm.

"I love you." He said, his eyes burning so intensely that Mel had to catch her breath.

"I love you." She replied, her heart pounding.

And right then she knew that, no matter what, she could never live without him.

Then Boromir shouted, "Open the gates!"

There was a whine and a loud creak and the gates slowly started to pull apart. The large dent in the middle prevented them from being opened all the way, but when they were opened as far as they would go, Boromir sounded the Horn of Gondor, a loud, clear blast that seemed to sweep through the air, cleaning away all fear that might have lingered there. Then with a loud cry, the army of Gondor charged out of the gates of Minas Tirith.

As soon as they cleared the gate, the air pulsed and Mel knew that the Witch-King of Angmar was dead. That was the last coherent thought she was allowed. The next few hours were the most intense of her life. She had thought the night of the siege was a blur, but it was nothing compared to this. They had only a few moments of surprise before the orcs realized they were being attacked from behind. There was a confused commotion as they tried to form ranks, but the soldiers of Gondor were already pouring out of the gates, hewing them down where they stood.

Mel followed Boromir straight into the thick of it, slashing and stabbing at any black thing that moved. Unlike the horse she'd had in Osgiliath, the steed Mel now rode was a war horse, sturdy and trained for battle. He reared out and kicked at the orcs that approached, almost unseating her at first before she realized what he was doing. But she adjusted more quickly than she would have thought, settling into her seat and lashing out with her sword, while her horse managed to stomp any stragglers.

Boromir was a whirlwind ahead of her, leading the charge deep into the thick of the enemy. It took everything Mel had to keep up with him. Slowly they pushed their way deeper and deeper into enemy lines, cutting a path of destruction through the ranks. These were not just orcs now, but orcs and men, bearing the dark skin and strange tattoos of Easterlings. But Mel didn't allow herself to think of them as Men. If she had, she was sure she would have lost her nerve. But they came at her like orcs, and so she treated them like orcs, cutting them down and ignoring the fact that her sword was now stained red, as well as black.

She didn't even know where they were going until she began to see other horses, bearing the green and gold of the Riders of Rohan. She glanced up. They were making their way toward a hill where a small company of men were making a stand against a horde of orcs three times their size. One of the men seemed half crazed, tearing through any orcs that dared come near him, surging into the oncoming enemy wildly. Mel had just enough time to wonder if that could be Eomer when something caught her eye. Something big.

"The Corsair ships!" she yelled, "Boromir, look!"

Boromir glanced toward the river, but Mel could tell that he didn't understand. Had he forgotten? It was almost over.

The enemy around them obviously didn't realize what was going on. For a moment their efforts were renewed ten-fold and Mel didn't have time to think of anything but staying alive. Then there was a confused chittering and the group around her scattered. She looked up. On the mast of the front ship flew a dark blue flag bearing the White Tree of Gondor adorned with seven sparkling stars and a gleaming crown that flashed brightly in the morning sun. The banner of the Kings.

"Boromir!" she called.

He looked where she pointed and then gave a whoop, lifting his sword into the air. His cry of joy was echoed by all those around them. Boromir gave three short blasts on his horn, joy echoing in their clear calls, then whooped again and went back to work on the enemy, who looked like they still hadn't quite figured out what the hell was going on. That was just fine with Mel.

"_For the Sentries…" _She thought and she attacked with a renewed spirit, fighting her way forward until she and Boromir were in amongst the men of Rohan that had made their stand on the hill.

The half-crazed man saw Boromir and lunged toward him eagerly. They spoke only a few words that Mel didn't hear, but they seemed familiar to one another, which made her almost positive that this had to be Eomer. Then the two men turned and together they plunged forward off of the hill and toward the river, Mel and the other men on the hill following in their wake. The men of the North had disembarked and Mel could see that the army of Sauron was trapped between them. They were fighting on two fronts, something that Mel knew had to be a bad thing.

They pushed forward and Mel allowed herself a small sense of satisfaction when she saw that some of the orcs had started to run rather than stand and fight. The men of Rohan and Gondor whirled around her, running down any that got in their way. At one point, Mel turned and caught a glimpse of two dark haired elves who could have been mirror images of each other. Elladan! Elrohir! But she didn't have time to call out to them because a large, dark-skinned man with strange tattoos on his body was taking aim for them with a large spear. Before she could think, Mel spurred her horse forward and stabbed the man through the chest. She tried not to think about it. Instead she turned back to the battle and the orcs that still surrounded her.

"Lass!"

She whirled toward the voice, so wonderfully familiar. Gimli waved his ax at her, then used it to chop the legs out from under an orc twice his size without any hesitation. Her heart leapt to see him. And then she had a thought. If Gimli is close…

But she couldn't finish. A band of orcs rushed her company and Mel was forced to use all her strength to put an end to them. It didn't take as long as she would have thought. The enemy was running. None stood against them now. The men chased after them, cutting down those too slow to escape. Very few would live to bring the news to Sauron of the defeat.

Mel didn't join in the chase. She was done with killing. She was tired and dirty and when she looked at this field of victory all she saw was death. There were too many men on the ground bearing the cloaks of the Rohirrim or the armor of Gondor. She felt adrift, unsure of what she should be feeling and too tired to sort it out. All she wanted was a minute of peace. She let her eyes wander trying not to focus on the devastation. But there was nothing else. Everywhere she looked there was death and exhaustion and sorrow.

That was when she saw him. He was so far away that she could barely make him out, but that tall slender form and the straight blond hair…

"Legolas?" she called, hoping, pleading...

He turned toward her and something inside of her exploded. It was him. In all of this horror and heartache, there he was. Her best friend. And she had missed him. She had missed him more than words or even thoughts could express. She jumped off her horse and started running, screaming his name.

"Legolas! Legolas!"

He was running toward her too, leaping across the field as fast as his long legs could carry him. She was so tired, but her feet were flying, determined to get to him. Nothing else mattered but him.

When they met in the middle of the field, Mel threw her arms around his neck and started laughing. Then she started sobbing at the same time. She was so happy, but she had missed him so much. Everything that she had felt in the weeks since she had last seen him was pouring out of her all at once and her mind didn't know how to handle it. But it didn't matter, because he was here now. Her best friend was here and everything was going to be okay.

Legolas grabbed her up and held her tightly, murmuring softly in her ear, "Egla elenath. Egla le tiriel hi mel. Eglo le… Eglo le…"

She had no idea what it meant, but it didn't matter. She was just so happy to hear his voice, that sweet, calm voice that had pulled her through so much darkness. Finally he pushed her back so he could see her. She couldn't seem to stop giggling and sniffling, tears still trickling down her face. He studied her as if he were assessing every mark on her body. His eyes fell on her scar, then her hair, and then he met her eyes.

"Eru, mellon, you are so beautiful." he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. And she believed him, wholeheartedly. He kissed her forehead where her scar was, then both her cheeks, then, before Mel realized what was happening, he kissed her lips.

Time stopped. Literally. Nothing moved. Mel was aware of everything around her, but she couldn't move. Legolas didn't move. Mel had just a fraction of a second to wonder what the hell was going on, when a deep, black voice rumbled through the air, a voice she had heard only in dreams… Mandos' voice.

"_**Now the choice is laid before you. The time to choose comes quickly. Choose, Calenhiril. A life for a life. Choose..."**_

The voice faded away and time started again. Mel jerked back like she'd been burned and stared at Legolas. She watched his face transform, shocked, perplexed, and then embarrassed. He started speaking, but Mel couldn't make his words form coherent sentences. Her brain was stuck, playing the dark words over and over again, like a skipping track. She felt like she might drown in those words, like they were filling her lungs, she couldn't pull in enough air, her vision started to dim, and all she could think as she fell into darkness was,

_Not him… Please… Please God, not him_

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A/N: Rough translation of what Legolas was whispering: "Thank all the stars. Thank you for watching over the one I love. Thank you... Thank you..."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Sorry this is so late guys, I'm actually posting this from my vacation! :) I hope you enjoy and I'll see you next week! :)

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**Chapter 19**

A quiet murmur slowly floated down into the blackness that surrounded Mel, coaxing her gently back to consciousness. When she opened her eyes, hovering over her was the last man on earth she had expected to see.

"Aragorn." She murmured.

He smiled, "Welcome back, Mel."

She was so overwhelmed that she sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her sudden act of affection caught him off guard, but he soon returned the hug.

"I'm so glad you're alright." She said.

It was true. She had thought very little of Aragorn, but seeing him now made her realize how glad she was that nothing she'd done had endangered him. At least he was safe. They parted and Aragorn gently forced Mel to lie back down.

"I am glad to see you as well, Mel. It is many long days since we walked under the golden leaves of Lothlorien. Much has happened to both of us; though I am sure you know much more of what has happened to me, than I do of what has happened to you."

A curtain pulled back and Loriel stepped in, carrying a basin of water. Mel caught a glimpse out of the curtained wall and realized she was in the Houses of Healing. But Loriel's blinding smile prevented any other thoughts on the subject.

"Oh Mel! Oh, I am so glad to see you awake!" The girl set down her basin and knelt beside her, taking her hand, "When they brought you in I feared the worst!"

"Why was I brought in?" Mel asked, directing her question to Aragorn.

"You fell on the battle field." He said, "Exhaustion most likely."

Then she remembered. The choice. The horrible, impossible choice…

Aragorn got to his feet, "Now I must leave you in the capable hands of Lady Loriel."

Mel's head whirled with questions, "What about Merry? And Eowyn? Are they alright? Have you seen them?"

A puzzled look passed over Aragorn's face, but then he smiled and shook his head, "It is a strange thing to remember that you know so much without having to be told. Yes, I have seen to both of them. Their wounds are grievous, but I have done what I can. In time, they should recover."

Mel relaxed a little, "Good. That's good."

Aragorn turned to Loriel, "Do your best to make sure she stays abed for a while. She needs the rest."

Loriel squeezed Mel's hand affectionately, "I will, my lord."

Aragorn nodded once, and then swept out, leaving the two women alone. Mel took the time to really look at where she was. She was lying on a small cot, surrounded on all sides by curtains. But from what she had seen, her spot was the only one with curtains. She asked Loriel about it.

"I insisted on it." Loriel said, pouring Mel a glass of water, "We didn't have a spare room to place you in. And you needed to be changed. It would have been indecent."

Mel only now noticed that she had been changed out of her filthy war clothes and into a white cotton gown. Suddenly, she had a new appreciation for Loriel's kind gesture.

"Mel?" Loriel said, hesitating awkwardly "Do you feel better? What I mean is, are you feeling strong enough to take visitors? There are several that have been waiting to see you, some more impatiently than others."

Mel was confused. Visitors? She thought of Boromir, which in turn made her think of Legolas. She felt her chest contract and she tried to fight down a wave of panic. The choice. How was she supposed to make that awful choice?

Mel tried to compose her features, but Loriel must have seen something, because she knelt down beside her and took her hand again.

"Mel, do not trouble yourself." She said soothingly, "If you don't feel well enough, I will make them wait. I will tell them you are sleeping. It would probably be best anyway."

Mel was tempted by her offer. She didn't want to see them. How could she look at them, knowing that because of her, one of them would… She couldn't even think it. The idea was inconceivable to her. She couldn't face it. She just couldn't.

On the other hand, how could she not? Ignoring it wouldn't make it go away. It would just make it more painful when the time came to choose. Suddenly all she wanted was to spend as much time with Boromir and Legolas as possible. The change in her perspective made her head spin. She was completely terrified, afraid to see them, afraid to be away from them, just afraid. But she knew she couldn't sit in paralyzed fear forever. She had to make a decision.

So she did.

"No, Loriel, it's ok. I can see them."

The maid didn't look completely happy with this, but she nodded, "I'll fetch them then."

She stood and swept out of the little curtained room. Even though she was probably only gone a few minutes, it felt like hours. Mel waited, trying not to fidget. Her nerves made her stomach roll and she thought she might be sick. But the first boisterous voice she heard dispelled her nerves almost immediately.

"About time! You would think the lass was dying!"

Gimli poked his head through the curtain.

"You aren't dying, are you?" he muttered.

Mel held back a giggle and shook her head, "Not as far as I know."

"Well then!" He swept into the room, Mel's other visitors following in his wake. Gimli wasn't her only unexpected guest. Elladan popped in after him, followed by Elrohir. Legolas and Boromir came in last and hung back out of the way. Everyone was packed rather tightly into the tiny space, but Mel didn't care. She was so happy to see Gimli and the twins she thought her heart might burst.

"I have to say, you were quite a sight out there, Mel." Gimli said, standing at her bedside, "Made me proud."

"What pride could you have taken in her battle prowess, Master Dwarf?" Elladan asked, his eyes twinkling, "If I recall, I was the first to teach this fine lady the ways of the sword."

"Oh Elladan, your sword!" Mel said, suddenly feeling very guilty, "That beautiful sword, I lost it! I'm so sorry."

The elf shrugged, "Do not concern yourself. It was Elrohir's sword anyway."

He nudged his brother who laughed good-naturedly. Mel smiled. She had missed this. She had been so worried, for so long, about so many different things, that she had forgotten what it felt like to laugh, surrounded by people she loved.

Her gaze naturally fell on Boromir. But he wasn't laughing. He wasn't even looking at her. Instead his stony gaze was fixed on Legolas. This didn't seem to bother Legolas, who laughed with the rest of them, but he also wouldn't meet her eyes. He looked everywhere but her direction. Mel felt a knot forming in her stomach. This was bad. She needed to fix this, before…

Gimli's gruff voice cut through Mel's thoughts, "You might have taught her the technical skill Master Elf, but her courage and spirit are as Dwarven as the mountains!"

"My spirit and my courage are my own, Gimli," Mel said, grinning mischievously, "They wouldn't fit a stature such as yours."

Gimli's mouth gaped open, but the twins doubled over laughing. Elladan wiped tears from his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

"Mel, you elegance of speech has improved, but your wit remains gloriously unchanged!"

"If it were any but you, Mel…" Gimli growled, but she could see the beginning of a smile under his beard.

"It was said in love, Gimli, you know that." Mel said, "Hearing you call out to me across that field was one of the happiest moments of my life."

That stopped the laughter. Mel looked at each of them in turn, drinking in the sight of them, reveling in the warmth of their friendship.

"I'm so glad you're all okay. I mean, really, really glad."

Before the silence could get awkward, Loriel came bursting through the curtains, "What is going on in here?" she exclaimed, "Out! All of you! What a ruckus you've made! Out, out!"

The twins looked very sheepish as they were herded out by the servant girl half their size. Gimli, true to form, stood firmly and crossed his arms.

"I will leave when it suits me, missy." He said gruffly.

Mel was prepared to come to Loriel's rescue, but to her surprise, the girl crossed her own arms and stared down her nose fiercely at the dwarf.

"Master Dwarf, if I scream, there are more than enough able-bodied men just on the other side of this curtain willing to come to my rescue. Do not make me resort to desperate measures."

Mel waited for the dwarf's smart-mouthed retort, but to Mel's amazement Gimli hesitated. He glanced at her. He was unsure! Mel decided to play it up.

"There are an awful lot of amped up soldiers out there, Gimli…"

That seemed to do it for him. He relaxed his stance and bowed to Loriel, "My lady, I will now part company with you." He turned to Mel and patted her arm, "I hope to see you fully recovered soon, Mel."

Then with as much dignity as he could muster, Gimli marched out. Only Boromir and Legolas remained. Loriel looked like she might tell them to go too, but Mel shook her head.

"It's ok, Loriel." She said. The girl took one look at her, then nodded and slipped back out.

There was a short pause.

Then Legolas said, "I never thought I would see Gimli moved by the threat of a woman."

That made Mel smile and Legolas smiled back. But Boromir just deepened his scowl at the elf. Legolas pointedly ignored it, taking a few small steps to Mel's bedside. He made sure to stay just a breath out of reach though.

"Really, Mel, you are a fearsome presence, but that little maid might be a match even for you."

"No one is a match for her." Boromir said. His words were fierce and low, and made both Legolas and Mel look up. His eyes burned into Legolas. "No one."

Legolas met his glare with that steady calm that Mel admired so much in him, "No. No, of course not."

Mel didn't know what to do. How was she supposed to deal with this? She started to feel that old familiar panic in her chest again. Her mind whirled. What was she supposed to do?

Then Boromir looked at her. His face changed in an instant. The angry fire in his eyes disappeared and his face creased in concern.

"Melody? You're so pale."

He was by her side in an instant, his hand holding hers, his fingers brushing back her hair, resting on her forehead.

"What do you need?" he asked softly, "What can I do?"

The pressure in her chest loosened and she took a deep breath. She loved him. She really loved him. She smiled.

"Nothing." She said, "I'm ok."

Now that her panic had passed for now, she finally got a good look at Boromir. His eyes were ringed by dark circles and she could still see streaks where he had hastily wiped orc blood from his face. She sat up, a new kind of worry taking over.

"Have you slept at all?" she asked.

Boromir seemed to consider his words very carefully, "I have not had the time…"

"You have the time now." Mel said, sternly, "You look awful."

Legolas snorted, and Mel shot him his own stern look, "Don't get cocky, Elf-Prince. You don't look that great either."

That shut him up. He opened his mouth once, closed it, then tried again.

"We were all so worried…"

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine." She said, cutting him off sharply, "You guys on the other hand look about ready to…"

She stopped short. She couldn't believe what she had almost said. It had been on the tip of her tongue.

…_ready to drop dead…_

She felt sick. She was going to throw up. Boromir and Legolas stood on either side of her, waiting for her to finish her sentence, but she couldn't. She couldn't breathe. She tried to pull it together, but she couldn't remember what she had been talking about. All she could remember was that awful voice.

"_Choose Calenhiril. Choose…"_

"Melody?" Boromir said, softly. She looked at him and made herself take a breath. He was so tired. They both were. They needed sleep.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired." She said.

Boromir nodded, "Of course, we will let you rest."

He gave Legolas a pointed look. Legolas nodded.

"Yes, of course." He replied.

Mel's eyes were still on Legolas, when Boromir leaned down and softly kissed her forehead. A flurry of emotion flew over her friend's face. Surprise, confusion, then something she had never seen on him before. Jealousy. It was only there for a moment before his face went blank and he turned away, but Mel had seen it. And she felt awful. She hadn't been given time to address this particular issue. She had been so worried about her choice that she hadn't had a chance to think about this. Legolas had kissed her. And it hadn't been a friendly kiss. She looked up at Boromir and saw his eyes boring into Legolas. She finally took the time to understand what that meant. Boromir had seen Legolas kiss her. She hadn't seen him there, but his fiery glare told her that he had seen it. There was so much rushing through her mind that she didn't know where to start. She couldn't sort through it all. And she was so tired.

"You need only call for me." Boromir whispered to her. Mel nodded absently, then his words sank in.

"No!" she shouted and both men jumped. Mel calmed her voice, "No, you guys go get some sleep. Loriel's here, I'll be fine."

Boromir looked like he might argue, but Mel gave him her best, 'Don't even try it' glare and he quickly seemed to change his mind.

"Very well." He said, "But I will be back as soon as I am able."

Mel nodded. Boromir turned to leave, but Legolas hesitated. He was watching her, letting his blue eyes roam slowly over her face. Mel didn't know what he was looking for, but he didn't get the chance to find it. Boromir turned back at the curtain, locking Legolas with another burning glare.

"Legolas." He said, his voice black.

The elf gave Mel one last searching glance, then followed Boromir through the curtain. Once they had left, Mel wondered if she should have said something to her friend. But what should she have said? What could she say? Her mind was in a fog of exhaustion and fear. She was so lost. She didn't know what to do. So she did the only thing she could do. She rolled over into her pillow and cried until she fell asleep


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Ok guys, sorry this is late. For those of you who haven't discovered my Facebook page yet, I've been on vacation for the last week and I just got home last night from two days of twelve hour long drives. So needless to say, the chapter posting thing didn't happen. I am back and ready for action now though, and we will return to our regularly scheduled Sunday updates starting this week :) And for those of you who haven't liked my Facebook page yet, the address should be on my profile page. Get to it! :)

Now, enjoy the new chapter!

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**Chapter 20**

When Mel woke up, she felt much more calm. It was as if her mind had settled while she'd slept and she now felt ready to face the task of sorting through her ever growing list of problems. The first thing she did was sit up and take a deep breath. Then, she took the choice that Mandos had placed before her, and she let it go. It was hard. It loomed, large and dark, in her mind. But she forced herself to push it aside. It was a big deal, but it was a big deal that couldn't be decided right now. And she had other problems that needed to be dealt with. Such as the problem of Legolas and his kiss. She understood the need to deal with that issue and quickly. She just hoped that Legolas and Boromir hadn't come to blows over it yet.

The next thing she did was try to think over what might have caused this in the first place. She hadn't seen Legolas in a long time and a lot had happened in that time. The last time Legolas had seen her, she had been upset and lost, unsure of her feelings or what she should do. She had relied on him as her friend. Though it had never entered her mind that it could be anything else, she now realized that it might have come across much more strongly than she had intended. And their separation might have been just as hard on Legolas as it had been on her. Of all the members of the Fellowship, she had thought of and missed him the most. But while she had Boromir to occupy her mind and heart, Legolas had no one. And not knowing the turn her relationship had taken with Boromir and not having her there to solidify the boundaries of their relationship, it would have been easy for the feelings, which had been innocently meant, to be misconstrued.

Basically, she needed to talk to Legolas. And she needed to do it alone, something that she was afraid might not be easy. She would need to explain to Boromir. Which would require her to also be alone with him, something she wasn't sure would be much easier. But there was no help for it. She had to do something before this whole fiasco got completely out of control. She'd already wasted precious time falling apart. How long had she been asleep?

Loriel silently slipped her head through the curtain of Mel's room, but seeing Mel awake and sitting up, she smiled and walked in, setting a tray on the table beside the bed.

"I wasn't sure if you were still asleep." She said, "But I brought you breakfast just in case."

Breakfast. So it was morning. But what morning?

"How long did I sleep?" Mel asked

"Through the night." Loriel said, "It is still early. The sun has not yet risen."

Mel felt a little relief. She hadn't slept too long then. She still had time to handle this. But her mind was wiped clean of all rational thought when Loriel lifted the lid on the tray. A sweet smell drifted to her nose and all she could think about was how hungry she was. Loriel set the tray on the bed. There was a bowl of steaming porridge and an apple, with a glass of juice.

"Peregrin Took insisted you be given the apple." Loriel said cheerfully.

Mel took a bite of the sweet porridge and savored it a moment before she replied.

"Pippin was here?"

"For a little while. He has alternated between your bedside and the bedside of his friend, Meriadoc."

"How is Merry?" Mel asked eagerly.

"He recovers well, though it will be a long while before he fully regains his strength."

"I'd like to see him." Mel said.

Loriel smiled, "I think he would like that. He has asked about you. If he were not so weak, I believe he would have come himself. He might have come anyway, to his detriment, if he were not… deterred by the healers."

Mel thought she could imagine how that went. Fiery little Merry, being held down by healers twice his size and fighting for all he was worth. She grinned, then hurried to finish her breakfast. She had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.

When she had finished her breakfast, she stood and had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out. She was sore all over. Every bit of her ached. But she fought it down and kept a straight face. If Loriel noticed that she was a little ginger when she changed into a fresh blue gown, she didn't say anything.

Mel followed Loriel through the corridors of the Houses of Healing. Everywhere she looked, there were men on stretchers and cots, attended by healers. There was a quietness to the place that struck her as eerie. There were moans and painful cries, but it all seemed muffled. Mel walked through it in a haze until she saw something that made her freeze in her tracks. Loriel noticed that she wasn't following and came back, looking where Mel's gaze had fallen. She nodded her head in understanding.

"He lost a leg." She said, quietly but with no hint of gentleness, "He will recover, but he will be unable to serve."

Mel's eyes raked over the still form of Vanion, lying on a cot in one of the main rooms, a noticeable vacancy under the blanket where his right leg should have been.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice void of any emotion.

"He fought on the wall. An orc cut through the leg right to the bone. We thought he might not survive. But your friend's healing powers are great, like the elven lords of old."

It took a minute for Mel to realize Loriel was talking about Aragorn. She didn't know who he was, of course, he hadn't revealed himself. She felt a stab of anger that Aragorn had treated Vanion at all, but she immediately quelled it. Aragorn didn't know who Vanion was, had no idea of her history with him. And even if he had, he would have treated him anyway. Because no one should have to die unnecessarily, not even Vanion. And as Mel looked at him, she realized she didn't feel anything. Not anger, not hate, nothing. It was as if she knew him only in passing. He seemed so small and unimportant now. She turned away from him. Loriel was watching her, waiting patiently. She took a look at Mel's face, then turned and they continued on their way.

They reached a small room at the end of one of the halls. Loriel knocked gently, then poked her head inside, "Master Meriadoc, you have a visitor."

"It better well be someone to let me out of this place! This isn't a healing house, it's a prison!"

Loriel pulled her head back and rolled her eyes at Mel, which made her stifle a giggle. Loriel pushed the door open, while Merry was still ranting, and Mel walked in. Pippin jumped to his feet, his face shining.

"Mel!"

Merry however barely paused when he saw her.

"Mel! It's about time! I was going to come see you, you know, but these people won't let me leave the bed! Too weak, they say! Can you believe that?"

"Yes, Meriadoc Brandybuck, I can." Mel said, crossing her arms and doing her best to look stern, "And frankly, I am appalled at your behavior."

Merry's eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out.

"How could you treat the healers like this, fighting and raving like a lunatic? No wonder they won't let you out of bed, you cause havoc wherever you go."

"But, I…"

"No buts!" Mel said, "Now you are to do whatever these people tell you, and no exceptions, got it?"

Merry's eyes fell to his hands, bunched up in his sheets, and when he looked up again, he looked very young and scared. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper.

"But, Mel, you don't understand. They want me to sleep. And, I…" he swallowed hard, "I can't. I just keep seeing… these horrible things. I see him. His eyes, burning at me. I can't…"

Mel felt her heart melt. She walked over to him and put her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug, running her fingers his curly hair.

"I know." She whispered in his ear, "I know, Merry. I'm here. Tell me what happened."

Then he did. Mel listened as he told her everything that had happened to him, about the ride of the Rohirrim, about feeling so small, about the fear and the blood and the terror. He talked about the Witch-king in a whisper, as if he were afraid that he might hear him.

"What could I do?" he asked, "What could I do that Lady Eowyn couldn't? It was stupid what I did."

"No it wasn't." Mel whispered, still holding him and stroking his hair, "It was very brave, Merry. You saved her life. You saved all of us."

Merry looked up at her with innocent eyes, "You really think so?"

She smiled, "I know so. I'm sort of an expert, remember?"

Someone cleared their throat and they both looked up, startled. Loriel was standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Mel. But your presence has been requested."

Mel looked down and squeezed Merry's shoulders, "Will you be alright?"

He wiped his nose and nodded, "I'll be alright."

He was lying, but she let him get away with it. He needed to work through everything on his own. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"I'll come see you later." She said.

"I'll keep an eye on him!" Pippin said enthusiastically, appearing at his cousin's bedside.

"I'm sure you will." Mel said, rolling her eyes, "Try not to cause too much trouble, okay?"

She and Loriel left the two hobbits and began the walk back through the Houses of Healing. When they were safely out of earshot, Mel leaned in and whispered.

"Who's asking for me?"

"The lords of Minas Tirith and some others have convened in the throne room. They ask for your guidance."

Mel didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, she was thrilled to be included. This was a big deal, when the decision would be made to march on Mordor. But on the other hand, she didn't see what good she could do. She had no advice to offer them, other than what they would do if she weren't there at all. And she knew that Legolas and Boromir would be there. She was in no fit state to offer wise advice. But she couldn't very well pass up this opportunity. And she needed to find a way to talk to Legolas. That was very important.

They reached the throne room, Loriel ushered Mel in, and then promptly left again.

"Ah, there she is, at last!" Gimli said, brandishing a smoking pipe, sitting on the steps of the white throne, "Now we can get on with it!"

Gandalf smiled at her and took her elbow, "How are you feeling, Mel?"

She looked up and his eyes were wise and kind, and she knew that he meant to ask her about more than just her body. He knew about the choice. She couldn't explain how she knew that, but all the same, he knew. She wanted to be angry at him for knowing and not warning her, but she couldn't bring herself to feel it. He could no more have helped her than helped a river flow to the sea. It had to come in it's own time. She smiled.

"I feel much better, thank you."

It wasn't a lie, but she could feel Gandalf scrutinizing her nonetheless. She was in pain and she was sure it showed on her face. She turned away from his prying eyes and was met with a sight much worse. Boromir and Legolas stood together across the room, arms crossed across their chests, both staring at her with burning intensity.

Those stares were more than she could handle so she turned away, focusing on the others in the room. The man she had recognized as Eomer seemed surprised to see her, openly staring across the room. He must have recognized her from the battlefield, but Mel couldn't imagine how. Aragorn was there, as well. He gave her a small nod.

Gandalf stepped away from her and into the center of the room.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight." He said, "The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it." Aragorn said, his face as hard as stone.

Gandalf turned to him, his face soft and sad, "It is only a matter of time. He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

Gimli puffed on his pipe, "Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom!" Gandalf snapped, but his irritation didn't last long, "I've sent him to his death." He murmured.

Mel had said that she wouldn't interfere, but Gandalf had moved close to her again, and he looked so sad. She reached out and took the wizard's hand. He jumped and looked down at their hands, then up at her. She smiled, but said nothing.

"No." Aragorn said, pulling their focus back, "There's still hope for Frodo. He needs time, and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Boromir asked, his voice stern and flat.

Aragorn turned to him, his face unmoving in it's determination, "Draw out Sauron's armies." Boromir rolled his eyes, but Aragorn kept on, moved by the conviction he felt, "Empty his lands! We gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

"The Black Gate?" Boromir asked, his voice irritated, "You expect to storm the gates of Mordor with no more than the men in this city? We barely held our own lands, we cannot sustain an invasion!"

"Not an invasion…" Mel said, quietly.

"A diversion."

Legolas soft voice drew Mel's eye. He was smiling at her. Mel couldn't help it. She smiled back before she caught herself and looked away. Boromir's face was black.

"We can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." Aragorn said, moving back to Gandalf, who still did not look fully convinced, "Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"This is madness!" Boromir exclaimed, "Melody, tell them! This is suicide!"

Everyone turned and looked at Mel. She hadn't wanted to get involved in this. She had wanted to let it go as it should. But she no longer had that choice. She had to say something. She met Gandalf's eyes and held them.

"It'll work." She said.

She heard Boromir snort in disbelief. She turned to face him, rigid with indignation and anger.

"It won't be easy. It won't be safe. But it'll work."

Boromir gave her a black look then turned away. Mel felt her anger boil up in her. It wasn't her fault. If he didn't like her answer, that was his own fault. He shouldn't have involved her.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." Gimli stood up and took another puff on his pipe, "What are we waiting for?"

That seemed to decide it. Mel left Aragorn and Gandalf conferring softly, and tried to make a beeline for Legolas who looked like he was just itching to talk to her. But Boromir grabbed her arm as she swept by.

"I need to speak to you." He murmured.

Mel still felt a stab of indignation that almost made her tell him to shove it, until she saw his face. He didn't look angry anymore, but it looked like whatever he had to say was urgent. She glanced at Legolas, but Gimli had grabbed his attention for a moment. She turned back to Boromir.

"Okay." She said.

He took her arm and firmly escorted her out of the throne room at a very quick-paced walk. Mel almost had to break into a jog to keep up. Once they were clear of the doors and in the courtyard, Mel felt free to speak.

"Look, if this is about what I said in there…"

"You said what was necessary." Boromir interrupted her, his pace slowed to a more leisurely stroll now, "I should not have put you in a situation where it was necessary for you to speak your mind so. I apologize."

Mel was shocked. That had been so… easy. She struggled for words before she was able to spit out, "O… Okay then. Apology accepted."

Mel waited. If that wasn't why they were out here, there could only be one other reason. And she thought that maybe she had better let Boromir speak first. It took a moment before Boromir found his words.

"I would like you to know, that I bear no ill will to anyone. Legolas is a good man, and I know that you care about him."

Mel stopped walking, forcing Boromir to stop and look at her.

"I do care about him." She said, "I care about him very much."

She watched Boromir's face fall, but she kept talking. It was important that he hear all of this, that he understand what was happening.

"He's my best friend, Boromir. He was there when I felt most alone. I will always care about him."

She touched Boromir's cheek and he looked at her. She smiled.

"But I love you. The only reason I'm here, right now, is because I love you. I've always loved you. I feel no different about you than I did last night, or the night before, or months ago back in Rivendell."

His face softened in an instant, "Then… On the Pelennor…"

Mel felt her chest contract. She heard that voice echo in her head again.

"_Choose, Calenhiril… Choose…"_

Mel forced it out. She had to focus.

"I need to speak to Legolas. Alone."

Boromir's face hardened, "I do not think that would be wise."

"A lot has happened to us since the last time we saw him." Mel said, in as calm and rational a voice as she could manage, "He deserves to know what's happened. And he needs to hear it from me."

"Melody…"

"You said yourself, he's a good man. You don't have to worry."

Slowly, Boromir's face relaxed, until finally he nodded, "Very well. It is pointless to argue with you. You will do what you will, with or without my blessing."

She smiled and took his hand, "Thank you."

Boromir leaned down and kissed her forehead, "I will leave you. He should be out soon."

Mel did something then that she was sure would probably be frowned upon in Boromir's world. She grabbed his tunic, pulled him down and kissed him hard. Though it surprised him, Boromir managed to pull himself together and kiss her back, briefly, but passionately.

"I love you." He whispered in her ear.

Then he was gone, walking out of the courtyard, just as the doors to the throne room opened and Legolas came out, looking around anxiously. Mel smiled and waved when he spotted her. His smile was radiant and he waved back as he jogged down the stairs and across the courtyard toward her.

"I wondered where you had gone." He said, as he reached out and took her hand. He cupped her face with his other hand, "How are you feeling?"

Mel smiled, but she took the hand at her face and pulled it away.

"Better. But we need to talk.


	21. Chapter 21

******A/N:** Thank you guys so much for your patience! I'm a little more caught up now and hopefully regular Sunday updates will be able to resume. I am going to warn you though that during the month of November, I will be unavailable for updating due to National Novel Writing Month, a challenge I've taken on the last four years to write 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days. So I'm giving you lots of warning, if this story is not completed by that time, there will be a month long break. So prepare yourselves! :) Now, onward!

P.S.- If you want more up to date information about this story and its progress, I encourage you to like my page on Facebook (link on my profile page). I try to post when there might be a delay and also, I just love to hear from you guys! :)

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**Chapter 21**

Mel could tell that Legolas had been expecting this conversation. They walked out by the wall of the Citadel and sat together on a stone bench facing out over the city. He still held both her hands in his, but that was all of them that touched. He made sure to sit a safe distance from her.

Mel launched into her story immediately, starting with her decision to follow them out of Lothlorien. She told him everything, leaving out only the choice that the Valar had given her. It wasn't fair to burden him with something that was clearly a decision she would have to make on her own. It would do nothing but make a painful conversation worse.

She felt comfortable telling him the story. He listened without interruption, only his face betraying his emotions, shifting constantly as her story unfolded. She made sure to tell him how much she had missed him, but she was also careful to make her feelings for Boromir clear. She tried to tell it objectively, as she would have told it to anyone else, shying away from nothing. It felt natural to talk to Legolas like this. It was no different from any other conversation they'd had in the past. In fact, she got so engrossed in telling the story, that she forgot why she was having the conversation in the first place. Until…

"And then he kissed me and I…"

Legolas let his hands slip from hers and Mel felt the absence sharply. She stopped and looked at him. For the first time, his face was smooth and empty, completely void of emotion. She had never seen him like that. It was like a stab in her chest.

"You really love him don't you?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral. It sounded strange in Mel's ears.

She nodded, "I do. I really do. And I believe him when he says he loves me too."

"How do you know?"

Mel stared at Legolas. He was searching her face, his eyes carefully hiding whatever emotion he was feeling. It made Mel cautious.

"How do I know what?

"How do you know that he loves you?"

Mel was dumbfounded. What kind of a question was that?

"I just know." She said finally, not sure what else she could say.

Legolas sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Mel, please, don't misunderstand me. I know that he cares about you. That much is clear to me, it always has been. But does he love you? After everything he's done, all that he's said…"

"That wasn't him!" Mel said, her voice sounding much more desperate than she had intended. She couldn't believe this was happening. She tried to grab control of the conversation again. "That wasn't him. It was the Ring. The Ring made him like that."

"Mel…" His voice was gentle as he took her hand in his. Mel jerked away from his touch. She felt a knot of panic form in her throat. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Mel, please believe me, I don't blame Boromir for those things. His actions since that time have more than redeemed him."

He reached up and brushed his fingers against her cheek.

"I will never be able to express my gratitude toward him for keeping you safe." He murmured, "Never."

Mel backed out of his touch and stood up to get some breathing space. This wasn't how she had expected this conversation to go. She had expected hurt feelings, anger, and maybe grief. But not this, this denial of everything she had told him, of everything she believed. She wasn't prepared for this.

"I love him." She said, fighting down the panic in her voice.

"I know you do." Legolas said, standing and taking a tentative step toward her, "But Mel, has he always returned that love? Have you always felt, without any doubt, that he loved you?"

He was right and she hated that he was right. She hadn't always been so sure that Boromir loved her. In fact, most of her time here had been spent in agonizing uncertainty, wondering if all she felt, and all that she had done, was for nothing. But now…

"Do you remember Lothlorien?" Legolas asked, and Mel's thoughts stumbled over the sudden change in topic, "Do you remember what I said to you there, on the banks of the Anduin?"

Mel tried to think, "Something in Elvish." She said, "Something I didn't understand."

He smiled, "Yes, and when you asked me what I said, I told you to ask me again when next we met. Do you know what I said to you that day?"

Mel shook her head, and Legolas smiled, taking another step forward. He was very close to her now. He took both her hands in his.

"I said, 'I will find you, mellon. Always.' And I did, Mel. I found you. And I will never lose you again."

Mel felt as if all the air was being squeezed out of her chest. This couldn't be happening. It was insane. She couldn't let this happen. She pulled herself away again.

"No," she said, trying not to gasp for air, "No, you don't understand. Legolas, I care about you, I do. There have been so many times that I thought about you, worried about you, wished I could see you and talk to you. But Legolas, I love him." She made sure to look him right in the eye so he could see how strongly she felt, "I love him. You know that, you said so yourself."

"I do." He said.

"Then why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking with the desperation she felt. He slipping away from her. The longer this went on, the further he would get, until there was no way to get him back again. And she didn't know how much time they had left. She was scared that she would lose him before she was ever given her choice.

"I just want my friend back." She said, "I've missed you, and I just want you back."

Legolas' face was filled with guilt, but before he could do or say anything, someone cleared their throat. Mel jumped and turned around. A boy stood behind her, looking uncomfortable. She wondered how long he had been standing there.

"Lady Melody, please forgive me, I wouldn't have interrupted, but Lord Hurin sent me to summon you to the main gates. He said it was urgent, my lady."

The Sentries. Suddenly, Mel's quarrel with Legolas, if she could call it that, seemed insignificant. She felt a lump of panic in her throat and she fought it down.

"Of course, I'll come immediately." She turned back to Legolas, who looked thoroughly confused, "We'll talk about this later."

Then she rushed out of the courtyard, letting the boy scramble to catch up with her. She had given Legolas something to think about and for now, that was enough. Once he'd had time to consider what she had said, he would understand. He had to…

The messenger finally caught up to her and together they walked down the streets toward the front gate. As they descended the levels, the scars of war became more and more apparent. Men were at work clearing the roads of debris. Rubble lay in piles, swept hastily to the side and shoved into corners. Some were salvaging what they could from the broken and burned remnants of what had once been homes. There was a determined hush over the whole city. Everyone went about their tasks in stalwart silence, speaking in gruff tones only when spoken to and even then as little as possible. Mel had to work to keep from rushing past. The silence made her uncomfortable.

They finally reached the first level and Mel could see that work to repair the gates had already begun. Scaffolding had been erected and men were trying to beat the metal plates back into shape with sledge hammers. Lord Hurin was standing on the ground overseeing the work, but when he saw Mel approaching he raised his hand to stop the work and rushed over.

"I am glad to see that you are so well recovered, Lady Melody." He said, and he seemed to genuinely mean it, "When they brought you from the field, I feared the worst."

Mel was surprised by his kindness. That he might have been concerned about her well-being had not even occurred to her.

"Thank you, my lord." She managed to say, "It was nothing really, just exhaustion I'm told."

He nodded, "Yes, it was a long, dark night, for you especially I am sure."

Mel would have been offended if his eyes had not strayed to the charred fragments of the Sentries that still clung to the gates. He wasn't talking about her lack of strength, he was talking about the strength she had given up.

"How are…" she paused and rephrased, "How is he?"

"That is why I sent for you. I was unsure how we should proceed. The gate must be repaired, but…"

He hesitated for a moment.

"I ordered that they not be touched." He said, finally, "I thought it might be best to wait for your guidance."

He had waited for her. Mel was touched by his thoughtfulness, for her and for the Sentries. She would never have expected it, least of all from Hurin. Her voice was soft and on the verge of breaking when she spoke.

"Thank you, my lord. How long do I have with them?"

Hurin's eyes softened in sympathy, "Take all the time you need, my lady."

He walked away, the men on the scaffolding following his lead and leaving the gates empty. Mel took a deep breath, then walked up to the gates, stepping around the scaffolding and standing in the gap that opened out onto the decimated plains of the Pelennor. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes.

But she didn't know what to say. She didn't even know what to call him, the poor lonely creature that lay shattered outside these metal doors. She didn't want to call him Sentry. That seemed too cold, too painful, too reminiscent of what he'd lost. But he knew nothing else. That was all he had ever been. What could she say?

"_Calenhiril…"_

His whispering voice floated up into her thoughts and she sighed. He was still there. He was still alive.

"_I'm so sorry I was away for so long." _She said, _"What can I do to help you?"_

She felt a shudder run through her, "_They are rebuilding the gate."_

"_Yes," _she said, _"They have to."_

She felt, rather than heard, him sigh, "_Yes. It is necessary. They will have to move him."_

This time it was Mel who shuddered. She had wanted to keep the conversation from taking this turn, but it seemed they were already there. She opened her eyes and looked to the right. The black, brittle remains of the unmoving Sentry made her stomach roll. It was her fault. It was her fault that this had happened. And now all she could do was try to make it bearable.

"_Yes. What can I do? How can I help?"_ She asked.

There was a painful pause.

"_Just… Don't let him be burned anymore."_

Mel got a flash, a vision, an old and withered trunk being chopped into pieces and thrown into a wagon, firewood. She felt a shiver of horror from the remaining Sentry.

"_I won't let that happen. I'll do everything in my power." _She assured him, _"Is there nothing I can do for you?"_

She reached down and gathered the life inside of her, that pulsing light and held it out to him, but he shied away.

"_No." _He said, _"No, Calenhiril, you are still weak. And the path that lays before you is long and dark. I will heal in my own way."_

Mel retracted her offer respectfully. She understood the need to heal in your own way.

"_I don't even know your name."_ She said.

The Sentry seemed to ponder that for a while. Mel realized that it was probably a painful thing and she almost immediately regretted bringing it up. But when he spoke again, he didn't sound upset.

"_You may tell them to call me Andonil."_

Andonil? Mel didn't recognize it.

"_What does it mean?"_

"_It is symbol of my loyalty. The Son of Gondor will know it's meaning. Tell him, Calenhiril. Tell him Andonil stands watch."_

Mel still didn't understand, but she supposed she didn't have to. She just nodded, then she broke their connection. She didn't want Andonil to have to be attached to her as she did what was necessary. He would mourn his brother in his own way, while she took care of the arrangements. She knew what needed to be done, if not for Andonil's sake, then for her own.

She carefully picked her way back through the scaffolding. There was still no movement. All the men that had been working on the gate's repair were standing in a wide semicircle around the courtyard, watching and waiting. Lord Hurin hurried forward and took her elbow gently.

"Are you well, Lady Melody? You look so pale."

He looked so concerned that Mel actually took a moment to considered how she felt. She was still a little queasy, but she pushed that aside. She had to do this. It had to be her and it had to be today.

She nodded, "Yes, I'm fine."

"What did he say?" Lord Hurin asked in a hushed voice. He glanced nervously behind her, as if he expected Andonil to come bursting through the broken gate at any moment, all writhing branches and blind fury. How very wrong he was.

"He's in pain." She said, "His injuries were severe, but he will recover. His brother," Her voice cracked a little and she paused to gather herself, "His brother will have to be moved."

"I will get men in there immediately to…"

"No!"

The force of Mel's voice made Hurin take a surprised step back. Mel carefully toned down her voice.

"No. I'll take care of it."

Now Hurin looked skeptical, "My lady, I'm not sure that would be the best thing in your current state…"

"I said I'll do it." she snapped, "No one is to touch them without my permission. No one, got it?"

Lord Hurin still looked unconvinced, "My lady, if I may, what exactly are you planning to do?"

Mel turned and looked back at the burned bits of wood that still clung to the bent gates.

"I'm going to bury him." She murmured, "He deserves it."

She turned back and gave Hurin a look that dared him to challenge her. But his entire face had transformed, melting his disbelief into soft compassion. He nodded.

"Very well. What do you require of us, my lady?"

If Mel hadn't felt so buried under the sorrow of her task she would have smiled. She thought about what she would need.

"A shovel for sure, and a wagon."

Lord Hurin snapped his fingers and two of the men standing by ran up, "Get a wagon from the stables, and find shovels and axes…"

"No axes." Mel said, and Lord Hurin raised an eyebrow at her, "No axes. We're not chopping him up."

For a moment she thought he might argue. But instead he just turned back to the men, "Very well, no axes, but we will need some rope. And bring an extra pair of stout horses. It seems we're pulling this one out of the ground."

The two men looked at each other skeptically, but they turned and ran to do as they were told. Mel pushed up the sleeves on her gown.

"I need to clean him up." She said, more confidently than she actually felt. She was trying to steel herself for the revulsion that she could feel welling up in her throat. She tried to tell herself it was just like trimming a bush, or cleaning a garden, but none of that rang true. This wasn't just a bush, or a garden, or even just a tree. This was one of the Sentries. He had been brave and strong and loyal, with thoughts and feelings that Mel herself had experienced. And now he was dead. And she was going to have to bury his body.

Lord Hurin looked like he might say something kind or comforting to her, but she turned her back on him and headed back toward the gate. She had to do this. She had to do it before she lost her nerve, or her mind, or started crying. She couldn't cry. She strode through the gate and turned sharply right.

And there he was. Mel didn't pause. She lifted her skirt and stepped gingerly past the charred twigs that littered the ground, reaching out and touching what was left of the complex lattice work that had covered the gates of Minas Tirith. The branches cracked under her touch, disintegrating into black puffs of soot. She jerked her hand back and stared at her black palm. She could feel the burning, the pain…

She pressed on, carefully following the line of the wall, searching for where the trunk began through all the lattice work of branches. Everything was black and brittle, and no matter where she put her hands or feet, bits of charred wood broke and crumbled, covering her in soot and ash. She could feel the heat of the fire, hear the ringing of the metal, the screams of the men dying on the wall, the screams of the Sentries as the fire burned into them, licking it's way over their leaves and branches, the crushing force as Grond struck again and again…

She couldn't see. Her vision was a blur. She stumbled over a fallen branch, the arm of what had once been a great warrior, and landed in the blackened earth. She couldn't see because she was crying, tears streamed down her face. She pulled herself into a ball and pressed into the blackened trunk of the dead Sentry, sobbing and choking on the soot and ash that floated in the air.

"I'm sorry." She choked out, "I'm sorry."

"Melody?"

Boromir's soft gentle voice attempted to bring her back to herself, to remind her that there were people here and they were watching her. But she couldn't, she couldn't leave him. She heard the thump of boots as Boromir came closer. She pressed further into the trunk of the tree, not wanting to face anything yet. She was crying over a tree. No one was going to understand that. There were many good men who had died defending this city. What difference did one tree make to anyone but her?

She heard Boromir settle down on the ground beside her. He didn't touch her. She wasn't crying anymore, but she still wasn't ready. She couldn't leave the Sentry alone. This was her fault…

"His life was not in vain, Melody." Boromir said softly, "Nor will it be forgotten. Generations from now, songs will echo through these streets and the halls of Minas Tirith, about the day the trees held the gates and the bravery of the Sentries of the White City."

Mel still didn't move. Boromir reached out a hand and touched the trunk of the tree gently.

"I know we cannot mourn him as you do, Melody. But we will mourn him, in our own way, I promise you. You need not carry this burden alone. Please, let us help you." His hand slipped down and took one of Mel's, gently pulling her around so she was facing him, though still nestled in the tree trunk, "Let me help you."

Mel felt a huge weight lift off of her soul. She believed him. She believed that Boromir would not let her Sentry's sacrifice be forgotten. It wasn't in vain. It meant something. She didn't have to carry his memory alone. She wiped her face with the back of her free hand. It came away grimy and black. Then she took a deep breath.

"Help me up, Boromir." She said.

He pulled her to her feet. Then together they prepared the Sentry of Minas Tirith for a hero's burial


	22. Chapter 22

****A/N: I'm so sorry about the delay everyone. I was very sick this weekend and wasn't able to even think about reading and posting a new chapter. But I feel a little better now, so here is the new one! I'm sorry it's so short, it's just how the story worked out :) Enjoy!

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**Chapter 22**

The rest of the day was spent clearing the debris and preparing the Sentry for transport. It was hard work and tedious. Mel hovered over every step of the process, demanding gentle hands and careful extraction of what was left of the burned trunk. There wasn't much, about five feet above ground with limbs still attached, but what was there was precious to Mel. She was sure that the men doing the work were probably exasperated with her to say the least, but to her surprise, not one of them said a word. They worked on, under her scrutinizing guidance, without a single sound of complaint, moving reverently around the decimated remains of the tree that had defended them in their darkest night. Boromir had been right. The Men of Gondor mourned the Sentry's loss in their own way. It comforted her.

Finally, in the late afternoon, they were ready. The loose branches had all been cleared away and loaded into the wagon. A deep trench had been dug all the way around, down to the roots, and ropes had been looped around the trunk. A team of horses stood ready, waiting for the order to pull. This would be tricky. Not enough force and the tree wouldn't move. But too much, and the brittle wood would split.

Everyone stopped and looked at Mel. They were waiting for her order. She walked around, checking the ropes, inspecting the trench, looking for weak spots. But she had already done this three times and she knew there was nothing else to check. She was just stalling. But to the everlasting credit of the Men of Gondor, not one person showed any signs of impatience. She walked around again and sighed. There was only one thing left to do.

"_Andonil?"_

She felt the tree stir, felt the emotions that rolled through him when he looked at his brother.

"_We're ready."_ Mel said, "_Is there anything you need, anything else I can do?"_

Andonil hesitated, "_Where will you take him?"_

It had actually been Lord Hurin that had made that arrangement. There was a grove of trees to the west of the city that surrounded an empty space on the Pelennor Fields. At Mel's agreement, he had already sent men ahead to dig a grave for the Sentry. Andonil seemed pleased with that.

"_Our brothers in the field will watch over him well."_

There was another pause, but Mel could sense he was struggling with something, so she waited. Then, slowly, a tiny branch came snaking through the air toward her. It was thin, but it was untouched by fire and on its tip were three bright green leaves.

"_Take this."_ Andonil said. The strain of the movement made his voice sound weak, _"Take it and bury it with my brother."_

Mel didn't hesitate.

"I need a knife."

She didn't see who pressed the handle into her hand, but the blade was sharp, cleanly slicing through the tender shoot in one stroke. Mel used just a touch of her own light to heal the fresh wound. She felt Andonil sigh.

"_Now I will always be with him."_ He murmured.

Mel didn't know what she to say to him, so she didn't say anything. She just put a hand on his blackened trunk and filled him with as much warmth as she could.

"I'll take care of him." She whispered aloud, "Don't worry."

"Melody?"

She turned. Boromir stood behind her, along with the rest of the men, still waiting, waiting for her to give the command that would separate the Sentries forever. She took a deep breath and stood back.

"Ok." She said, "We're ready now."

Boromir turned and gave the order. With a lunge, the team of horses surged forward. There was a creak, a rumble, then a crash. The fallen Sentry was uprooted. The men quickly loaded him into the wagon, and before Mel knew it she was riding in the back of the wagon to his final resting place. To Mel's surprise, all of the men that had worked so hard to clear him followed the wagon across the Pelennor Fields in a silent funeral procession. Mel felt her heart swell. It was more than she could have hoped for.

They gathered in the cleared space in the grove of trees. Mel could hear them murmuring as they approached, but when the wagon passed under the branches, the trees grew silent. Not a sound was murmured, not even a leaf stirred. The men in the procession joined the group that had gone ahead to prepare for the Sentry's arrival. The group stood silently, surrounding the hole that had been dug in the grass of the little meadow. It was a quiet place, and pretty. The sun was setting, filtering gently through the leaves. Mel could see wildflowers growing on the edges of the clearing and she hoped that someday those flowers would cover the place that held her friend. She put a hand on his blackened trunk.

_You would have been happy here._ She thought.

The wagon came to halt and the men worked to carefully lift the Sentry out of the wagon and place him in the grave. Mel stood by and watched it all in silence, holding Andonil's branch close to her chest. When the trunk had been lowered and covered with the remains of the branches that had been gathered from the gate, the men stood back and waited respectfully. Mel suddenly realized that she should say something. She didn't know what to say. She had never spoken at a funeral before. What should she say?

That was when she saw the stone. It was a large boulder that looked like it had been rolled into the clearing and placed at the edge of the Sentry's grave. And on the boulder these words had been engraved:

"_Here lies a Hero of the Men of Gondor, a Sentry of the White Tower,_

_Who stood tall in the face of fire and death to defend his People._

_His Sacrifice Will Not Be Forgotten."_

Mel couldn't believe it. She walked over and touched the boulder, just to be sure it was real. She ran her hand over the carving of the words, felt the cool rock rough on her fingertips. And she started to cry. She looked up at all the men who had worked so hard and done so much and she was so grateful.

"Thank you…" She managed to say through her tears, "Thank you."

Then she placed a kiss on the slender branch in her fingers and tossed it into the grave. It landed softly, the bright green sharp against the black remains of it's kin. Boromir stepped up and took a handful of earth.

"We will never forget." He said. Then he tossed in the earth.

One by one, each of the men in the clearing came forward and tossed in a handful of earth, murmuring words of respect, of remembrance, of thanks. Mel was overwhelmed by their kindness. She had never expected this. Even Hurin came forward, tossing in his handful of earth, then stopping in front of her, he reached out and touched her arm.

"I'm sorry, my lady." He whispered. Before Mel had a chance to respond, he hurried out of the clearing.

When each man had paid his respects, they took shovels and set to the grim task of filling in the hole. The work went quickly with so many, and soon only Mel and Boromir remained in the little clearing. They stood together over the fresh earth in the dim twilight, Boromir standing within reach of her, but not touching her. Mel had stopped crying. She felt empty. The task was done. She had taken care of the Sentry. He would be safe here. And he would be remembered.

She took a deep breath and looked up. Boromir was looking down at the grave solemnly. Mel reached out and took his hand.

"Thank you." She said.

Boromir looked up at her, "For what?"

"For this. For taking the time." She looked around, "Lord Hurin picked a wonderful place for him. Andonil will be happy with it."

"Andonil?" Boromir asked.

"His brother." Mel said, "He's chosen the name Andonil."

Boromir nodded, "Yes. Yes, it suits him."

"What does it mean?"

He paused, "It means, 'Devoted to the Gate'."

Mel felt a smile pull at her lips, "Yeah. It does suit him." She squeezed his hand and smiled, "It's getting dark. Let's go."

Boromir nodded and together they walked back to the main gate. As they passed under the arch, Mel paused and put her hand on Andonil's trunk. She pulled a picture of the clearing into her mind, and the words engraved on the boulder. A shiver passed through the tree.

"_It is done." _He sighed, _"Thank you, Calenhiril. Thank you."_

Mel nodded, but didn't speak. She felt so tired and empty, all of her energy drained from her. She left Andonil and walked with Boromir into the city. The long walk to the Citadel seemed endless to Mel and she wished that they had brought horses, even though she doubted whether she could have stayed mounted for long. Boromir didn't push her and if it had been under any other circumstances Mel might have enjoyed the moonlit stroll through the city. But everywhere she looked all she could see was the destruction of war and it just made her feel more tired.

They finally reached the Citadel and the courtyard of the White Tree. It stood stark white against the gloom of the falling night, a sharp contrast to the Sentry laying hundreds of feet below on the plains. It made Mel pause. She could see how the tree might have once been beautiful, covered in soft green leaves and budding flowers in a soft warm breeze. She hoped that she would be around to see another tree flower in the courtyard.

Boromir's voice rumbled softly in the still night air.

"When I was a boy, my mother used to come to this place each evening. She would sit at the base of the White Tree for an hour each day with her needlework. It seemed so strange to me that she should do this. We had much prettier spots in the garden. 'My boy,' she told me once, 'We are a comfort in our suffering, for our sacrifices are the same. For love, we give all. Someday, I pray you will have that love. And when that day comes, I pray you will give all.'"

Mel felt a shiver run down her spine. Boromir took her hand in his.

"I didn't understand her then. Not even when she died. I didn't understand what feeling drove her to this place." He looked down at her and Mel saw a flicker of softness in his eyes, "But now, I think I begin to see."

"Lord Boromir," They turned and the servant boy behind them bowed, looking sheepish "Forgive me, my lord, but your brother has asked for you."

Boromir nodded, "Of course."

He kissed Mel's hand softly, "You should rest, Melody."

She nodded, "I will. Tell Faramir hello for me."

He smiled, "I will."

Boromir followed the servant boy out of the courtyard, but Mel lingered for just a few moments more. Something about what Boromir had said struck a chord with her. For love, we give all. What would she have to give for love? She loved Boromir, undeniably. But could she give up Legolas for that love? Could she live with that sacrifice? She wouldn't just be losing a friend. She loved him too, though it was certainly a very different kind of love, and she couldn't imagine her life without him in it. But Boromir was emblazoned on her heart, in every fiber of her being. She had saved his life because she loved him. She couldn't give him up now.

Man or Elf? Lover or Friend? What would Mel have to give for love? She just hoped beyond hope that she could think of something before it was too late


	23. Chapter 23

******A/N:** Sorry guys, I know you had to wait a while for this chapter. And I have more bad news. As I stated on my Facebook page, starting this week, I will be switching to biweekly updates, rather than weekly. This is not only to keep my sanity intact during NaNoWriMo and the holidays, but also so that I can continue to produce the quality of work that you have all come to expect and enjoy. So beginning this week, I will be making BIWEEKLY updates. These changes will be reflected on my Facebook page, in the Events section if you would like to know the exact date you can expect a new chapter :) Also, just a reminder, there will be NO updates during the month of November, so that I can focus on my National Novel Writing Month project, something I look forward to every year :) If you are a writer, you can absolutely play along with me at nanowrimo . org (no spaces). My username is fogisbeautiful :) You can also keep up with me on the Facebook page, since I'm sure I'll be posting regular updates as I work through the month. I'd love to hear from you!

Ok, now that's all out of the way, enjoy the new chapter! :D

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Mel had woken up in a fairly decent mood. She was sore all over and starving, but overall, her state of mind hadn't been too bleak. And after a quick run to the kitchen to grab an apple and a few pieces of toast, she was feeling almost optimistic. The citadel was bustling, everyone scurrying frantically, trying to prepare for the march to Mordor. The army that had amassed was no small force and they would need supplies and provisions to last for many days of marching and on short notice.

Mel grabbed her bit of breakfast and munched it on the way to the practice court. There was a surprising number of men there. Mel was barely able to find a spare bit of ground to run through her routine. When she had finished, she sheathed her sword, feeling pretty good, and started to leave, when she saw a man watching her from the railing. He was unarmed and dressed all in green. Mel smiled at him, but he did not return her smile.

"You're one of Lord Hirluin's men, aren't you?" she asked, trying to be friendly. The man just nodded. "Where is he? I'd be glad for a rematch."

The man's stony face faltered for a moment, and Mel felt her heart hit the bottom of her stomach.

"He fell, my lady." The man said, "On the fields of Pelennor."

Mel's head reeled. She could see Hirluin's face, his bright blue eyes, his bright smile.

"I'm sorry." She said, trying to pull herself together, "I'm sorry, I… I didn't know."

"Lord Forlong as well."

Mel thought she might stumble, but she managed to stay upright. The big man, so excited, so eager, so kind. It wasn't right. Why hadn't she been told? She had been busy, but she should have known.

"They died with honor, my lady." The young man said, "We should all hope for such a death as to be remembered."

Mel didn't know what to say, but she didn't have to say anything. The young man walked away, leaving her on the practice field feeling as if the world had suddenly tilted on it's axis and she was trying to find her balance again. She hadn't know the men well, but she had known them well enough to feel their loss. She should have expected to loose someone in that battle, but still she felt unprepared for it. It just didn't seem right.

She left the practice field in a daze, unsure of what she should do, of how she should act, of where she should go. Everywhere she looked people were busy, running around frantically doing whatever it was that was needed. But Mel didn't know what she should do. She was lost, drifting, feeling displaced. Somehow she found her way to the Houses of Healing. She walked in and let out a sigh. This seemed to be the only place that was calm, peaceful, like she could breathe and the air wouldn't weigh her down.

She asked about Loriel and was pointed in a general direction. When she finally found her, the girl was digging through a cabinet, checking half empty bottles. Mel rolled up her sleeves.

"What can I do to help, Loriel?"

The servant girl jumped at the sound of her voice, "Oh Mel! You frightened me!"

Mel smiled, but she stood firm with her hands on her hips, "What do you need me to do?"

"Oh nothing, nothing at all! You needn't be troubled with us, I'm sure there are other things…"

Mel took Loriel's arm and forced the girl to look at her, "Loriel, I'm going crazy. Please, give me something to do."

Loriel stopped and stared at Mel for a moment. She must have seen something in her eyes, because she quickly relented, "Very well. You may help me attend."

So Mel was put to work following Loriel around as she tended to the injured soldiers. Most were not so bad. Loriel was not a trained healer, so her job was mostly changing bandages and checking on the less serious injuries. Mel tried to stay out of the way, handing Loriel whatever she asked for, but mostly sticking to the background. They methodically made their way through the cots of the injured, until finally they came to the private rooms. Loriel opened the first door and curtsied.

"And how is my lord feeling this morning?"

"Trapped, my lady, as usual. And you?"

Just the sound of that voice made Mel's heart a little lighter. As Mel came into the room, Faramir turned from his window and when he saw her, his face lit up with a smile.

"Why Mel, what a pleasant surprise!"

He strode across the room and kissed her hand. That was when she noticed his arm, bandaged in a sling. He followed her gaze, then shrugged.

"It seems my injury was a bit more severe than I had anticipated," He glanced at Loriel with a sparkle of amusement in his eye, "So now I am at the mercy of overreacting nursemaids."

"Now, my lord Faramir, you know that is unfair to say." Loriel said, without even looking up, "We care for you as we do all of our patients."

"Do you, Lady Loriel?" Faramir said, still grinning mischievously, "While my people prepare for war, I languish in this tower like an invalid. I am not a useless burden you know."

"Of course not, my lord." Loriel said sounding bored, as if they'd had this conversation before… several times, "Now please, sit."

"You see, Mel? You see how I am treated? It is shameful, I tell you, simply shameful!"

But still he took a seat and allowed Loriel to clean and re-bandage his wound, which Mel had to admit looked pretty nasty.

"So," Faramir said, wincing as Loriel gently put a wet cloth to his wound, "Mel, how does my brother fair? I have not seen him yet today."

"I haven't either." Mel said, "I've been here all morning."

"Is that so?" Faramir said, wincing again as Loriel applied a salve, "I had thought that he would be affixed to your side."

"Why is that?" Mel asked.

Faramir gave her a strange look, and somehow Mel knew that he knew about Legolas. Boromir had probably told him everything.

Faramir just shrugged, "It was only a supposition. I know how much he cares about you."

Despite his deference of the subject, Mel felt her face start to burn hot and she turned away so he wouldn't see her blush. Of course Boromir would tell his brother, he had probably been angry and hurt. And to tell the truth, there was no one else she would have rather he'd spoken to. Faramir seemed level-headed and logical, traits that his brother often lacked, and she trusted him to give Boromir good advice. She also knew that the information would go no further than Faramir's ears, which was comforting. But she still felt as if her privacy had been violated a bit. What must Faramir think of her? Did he know that she loved his brother, that she would never want to hurt him? She hoped so, but she couldn't be sure.

As Loriel finished up, Mel wandered over to the window and looked out. They overlooked a pretty courtyard with a stone fountain and an open wall that faced east. And there, sitting on a bench gazing toward Mordor, was a lovely woman, wrapped in a cloak, her gold hair floating around her in wisps.

"She only sits."

Faramir had come up behind her and when she looked at him, he was staring down at the woman (who Mel knew had to be Eowyn).

"She sits all day, never moving. She comes early in the morning and stays until the sun sets. While I pace here like a caged animal, all she does is sit. I don't understand why."

Mel felt a warm flutter in her heart when she heard the wistfulness in his voice. She smiled, "Well, maybe you should ask her."

Faramir looked down at Mel suspiciously, "Do you know that woman?"

"Yes." Mel answered, turning away from the window. Faramir followed her.

"Who is she? Where does she come from? Why is she here?"

"I told you," Mel said, still smiling, "You should ask her."

"But why won't you tell me?"

Mel turned around and put her hands on her hips, "Because I have enough to worry about, while apparently you are bored out of your mind. So I'm giving you something to do. Stop being such a creepy stalker, staring at her out of a window, go down there, and talk to her."

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, but to Mel's surprise, Faramir caved first. He slumped his shoulders, turned back and leaned against the wall, still staring down into the courtyard.

"Perhaps," He said, "Perhaps I will."

Mel rolled her eyes, "Better make up your mind. She might not be there forever."

Then she left, following Loriel out of the room without another look back. Once they were well beyond the door, Loriel looked at Mel.

"May I ask what that was about?"

Mel still hadn't been able to get the smile off her face, "Just hoping to set some things right."

Loriel stared at her for a moment, then shook her head, "You are so odd, Mel. I'm not sure I'll ever fully understand you."

That made Mel laugh, "Join the club."

Loriel looked back up at her curiously, "Club?"

Mel shook her head, "Never mind, it's not important."

They went to a few more rooms, including Merry's where they stayed and visited for a while. The poor guy was going stir crazy, but when he dropped his spoon three times in the span of thirty minutes, Loriel deemed him still too weak to be released. He begged and pleaded with big sad eyes that Mel wasn't sure she could have resisted, but Loriel stood firm. There was no moving her and Mel stood by her decision. He might have been feeling better, but she didn't think he was feeling that much better. They left the little hobbit sulking over his soup. They went to a few more rooms before Mel realized she was missing something.

"What's happened to Lord Denethor?" She asked.

"He has been taking his rest in his own bed," Loriel said, "After the battle, there was need of the space and he preferred the solitude of his own rooms anyway."

Mel felt a little knot of worry relax away. She hadn't wanted to accidentally run into the Steward here, not after the things that had been said between them. Actually, she would be happy if she never had to see him again. Of course, since she was in love with his favorite son, she wasn't likely to have that particular wish granted. She wondered if Denethor knew about Boromir and her. If he did, she couldn't imagine that he would have kept silent about it. She imagined the classic evil father scenario, where he offered her gold, jewels, and half of his kingdom to stay away from his son.

No. Never. Not a chance in hell.

The conviction that she felt surprised even her. Not for the whole world would she give Boromir up. Did that mean she was willing to sacrifice Legolas to save him? No. No, she wasn't, and she felt that same amount conviction. Not for the whole world would she sacrifice her friend. So what was she going to do?

"Mel?"

She jumped. Loriel was a few steps down the hall, looking back at her, concerned.

"Mel, are you alright?"

No, she wasn't alright. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever be alright again. But she smiled and nodded anyway.

"Yeah, sorry, I just… I was thinking."

She caught up to Loriel and spent the rest of the day helping in the Healing Houses, burying her indecision and her pain for one more day.

An idea had taken root in Boromir's mind. It was too soon for such an idea, much too soon, but it was there all the same, on the edge of his consciousness, pulling his attention away from where it should be. They were preparing for war, for a march that would end in death, but would begin a new age. He didn't know if he would live to see that new age. He knew he wasn't meant to. He knew that his life should have ended many weeks ago. But the love of one woman had saved him, had brought him to this moment. And he knew that he had never loved another soul the way he loved her, nor would he ever love another with such a passion. So perhaps the idea was not too soon after all, this thought that his mind kept circling back to.

There were complications of course. The elf had changed things. Legolas' return and the revelation of his feelings for Melody had caused a rift, not between Boromir and Melody, but between Boromir and Legolas. He knew that she cared very much for the elf, that she loved him in a way, and that made it all the more difficult to look at Legolas without feeling animosity. Melody would be upset with him if she knew, of course. She would see it as doubt, as uncertainty in her feelings for Boromir, but that wasn't true. He knew that she loved him. He could see it in her eyes. It astounded him that it had taken him so long to recognize it. But knowing that she felt so strongly about the elf, and that he in turn was in love with her, made things difficult. However, it didn't change this thought, this growing certainty that he couldn't live without her. If, in the end, she chose the elf, that would be the day that he stopped breathing. He lived because of her, and he lived only for her.

And so, when the day was over and dusk was settling over Minas Tirith, he went to his father. Whether or not it was too soon he couldn't say, but he knew that this thought, this certainty that he felt, would not leave him until something was done. And he had always been a man of action.

Denethor had remained in his quarters since the incident in the tower. Boromir knew that he blamed Melody for what had happened. He also knew that the anger his father felt was misdirected. What he had done had been reckless and dangerous, and in truth, Melody had probably saved his life and the lives of many others. But his father was a proud man and slow to forgive any perceived wrong done to him. Because of these things, Boromir approached his father cautiously, expecting that his request would be met with strong words at the least.

Denethor was sitting at his desk, shuffling through a stack of parchments, requests for provisions for the march, things that had most likely already been packed away. The requisitions were simply a formality.

"Ah, Boromir, good, I had hoped to see you about some of these matters."

"Father, you really should be resting." Boromir said, already on his guard.

He knew that Denethor wasn't pleased about the decision to march on Mordor, mostly because it had been made without consulting him, but after much discussion, he had been made to see that it was the only solution. Now, Boromir simply hoped that he wouldn't put his power as Steward to use against the campaign. Though Aragorn was even now within the city, he had yet to reveal himself as the rightful heir of Isildur, therefore Denethor remained the Ruling Steward of Gondor. Boromir dreaded the day when Aragorn's lineage was revealed to his father. He had no way of knowing what the results might be.

Denethor waved away his son's concern, "Nonsense, I am well enough to take care of this business. Now, will you take all of the men to the Black Gate? I do not like to leave the city undefended."

"Lord Golasgil's men will stay behind, along with the Citadel guard. The city will remain under their care until we return."

Denethor nodded, "And will you lead the men on the march?"

"Yes, I will lead them."

This was a bit of a falsehood. Boromir would lead the men of Gondor, Eomer would lead the men of Rohan, but all would ride under the banner of the King, therefore Aragorn would lead the charge. This was the ploy to draw out Sauron's army, to ride united under one banner. It was a good plan, as suicide missions went, but Boromir was reluctant to tell this to his father. He was reluctant to tell his father many things since the incident in the Tower of Ecthelion.

Denethor signed another few papers, and then set the stack aside. He folded his hands on his desk and smiled at Boromir, who still stood rigidly before him.

"My son, why do you stand so stiffly there? Come, sit. I'm told you wanted to speak with me."

Boromir hesitated. For some reason, he felt that he should stand, but that was foolish. This was his father; he shouldn't feel the need to distance himself from him. His anxiety over his request was making him defensive. He forced his body to relax and he slipped into a chair across the desk from Denethor. For a moment, he wasn't sure how to begin. A hint of concern slipped into his father's pleasant expression.

"What troubles you, Boromir?" he asked, "You look distraught."

"I… I am distracted, Father, not distraught. I have come to ask you for something, something I thought I might never have need of, and I find that I don't quite know how to begin."

Denethor sat back in his chair, and thought carefully, "Why don't you begin by telling me what it is that you need of me? You know that anything you ask I would give you."

There was nothing else for it. This was the moment. There was no turning back. Boromir took a deep breath and held his father's eyes.

"I have come to ask for Mother's wedding ring.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Boromir watched as a range of emotions flitted across his father's face. Shock, disbelief, then just a hint of anger before Denethor carefully rearranged his features into a neutral expression. He knew that expression. It was a calculating look, the look of a man about to engage in a battle of wits. Boromir steeled his nerves and prepared his mind.

"Why would you ask this of me, my son?" Denethor said, his tone carefully neutral.

"You know why, Father." Boromir replied, also keeping his voice level. His request had not been outright denied, nor had it been granted. They were on shaky ground now. He would have to tread lightly, something that he wasn't sure he was able to do.

Denethor sat very still in his chair for a moment, but Boromir could no longer read his expression. Then the Steward stood up and crossed into the next room, his bedroom. He was gone for several minutes, but when he returned he carried with him a small box, plain in appearance, but the way he held it betrayed how precious the contents were to him. He sat at his desk and placed the box in the center, then slowly and carefully he opened it and drew out a small ring, a diamond in the center with sapphires embedded in waves of silver that cascaded away, like ocean waves. For a moment, Denethor stared at the ring, turning it over in his fingers delicately, his eyes soft.

Finally he spoke again, his voice precise, but gentle.

"I will not insult your intelligence any further by asking the name of the woman to whom you intend to propose marriage. I might be old, but I am not yet blind or deaf. I will also not bother asking if you've given thought to your true feelings. I trust you to know your own heart."

To all appearances, this would seem to be going well, but Boromir would not relax until the ring was in his hand.

"There is however, something I would like to tell you. It is something that I have not told to another living soul, but it is a truth that has haunted me for many years, a truth I would like you to hear rather than experience for yourself."

Denethor paused and looked up at his son. Boromir saw pain in his face, and he did not believe that this was a pain that his father had conjured up to turn his mind. It was a deep sorrow that he had only seen once before, thirty years ago at his mother's graveside.

"That truth, Boromir, is that if I could go back and rescind any action of mine, I would never have married your mother."

Boromir felt as if all the air had been pressed from his lungs. No matter what he had thought would be said, or what truth revealed, he had not expected this.

Denethor looked back down at the ring in his hand, "Do not misunderstand me. I loved her. I loved her more than all the power, and riches, and wisdom of the world. I loved her more dearly than any other. In truth, I love her still, though she is gone from me."

He looked back at Boromir, "It is because of that love that I wish I had not married her. Your mother was beautiful and strong when first I beheld her, standing on the shore of the sea, the wind tossing her dark hair wildly. She laughed and ran along the sand, and I could not take my eyes from her. Her spirit burned bright, both in her beauty, her heart and her mind. The first time I spoke to her, I knew that I loved her. I knew that I wanted nothing else in the world than to spend the rest of my life with her. To all appearances, it was a perfect match, no one spoke a word against it. And I believe that she loved me too. I believe this because it is the only thought I have to hold on to when I think back on our time together.

"I loved her and she loved me. But that love was not enough to keep her spirit alive. She withered behind these walls. Though her mind was sharp, she had not the heart for politics, and though her body was strong, she had not the stomach for the shadow that lingered always on the eastern horizon. Her spirit longed for the freedom she had felt on the shores of the sea, for the breeze that had blown her hair and lifted her heart. I thought to keep her locked away, that with time she would forget the salt air and the sea waves, that she might grow to love my city the way she had grown to love me. I selfishly supposed that my love would sustain her, and blinded myself to all evidence to the contrary."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Boromir could feel the pain these words brought to his father. He had never heard him speak so candidly of such things. He sat quietly and waited.

"I did not realize my mistake until it was far too late. When she died, I searched for anything at all to place the blame. I blamed the sea, I blamed the Dark Lord of the East, for a time I even blamed your brother. But truly, the blame rests solely on my shoulders. Had I been a wiser man, had I been a kinder man, I would have left Finduilas laughing by the shores of the sea, and taken nothing from Dol Amroth but her memory and the knowledge that my love lived on in her."

He opened his eyes and looked at Boromir, "I tell you all this now, my son, that you might take heed. That you love Melody, I have no doubt. When first you brought her to me, I could see in your eyes that same passion that had burned inside me as a younger man. And Melody's heart is her own, I will not venture to predict her feelings. But I ask you this."

He held the ring up before Boromir's eyes.

"Will this bond trap her, or set her free?"

Boromir stared at the ring in his father's hand. It glittered in the candlelight, but somehow the image no longer seemed romantic. It held a glint of hostility, of malice.

"You know the power the she holds." Denethor said, "The bond that she shares with the forests. I do not pretend to understand it, but I know that it exists. Do you think she will be truly happy encased in a city of stone, always cut off from the spirits of the trees that she serves with her whole being? I have been told of her devastation at the loss of the tree at the gates. Cut off forever from the world that she has grown to love so deeply, do you believe that she will thrive? Or will she wither, like a flower cut off from sunlight?"

Boromir felt distraught. He looked up into his father's eyes, now filled with bitterness and sorrow, and he knew only one thing.

"I love her, Father." He whispered, "I love her."

Denethor placed the ring back in the box, carefully fitting the lid snugly in place, then pushed it toward his son, "Then take this. You will do as you see fit to do, and I will not hinder you. I ask only that you heed my warning. Think carefully on what I have said."

Boromir reached out for the box, and Denethor covered his hand with his own.

"I love you, Boromir," he said, "More dearly than any other. I wish only that you not be burdened by such sorrow as I carry. For the load grows only heavier as time goes by. Think on what I have said. Swear it to me."

Boromir took his father's hand, "I swear it."

His father smiled then and released his hand, "Now go, I wish to be alone for a little while."

As Boromir left, his mind and heart were heavy. He loved his father, and he took his oath seriously. He put his mother's ring in a pouch on his belt that he had brought just for this purpose. The weight of it seemed to weigh also on his heart. What his father had told him was distressing. He loved Melody. But was he willing to ask her to sacrifice her life for his? Someday, he would take up the rod of his father as the Steward of Gondor, and even under the kingship that was no small task. Aragorn's rule would be tumultuous at best as the land adjusted to the rule of the rightful king. The place of the Steward would be to aid in that transition, and it was a position that Boromir was willing to take, gladly if it would prosper his people. But was that a life that Melody could live with him? It was the life of a politician, the life of a ruler, and quite frankly, not a life that Melody had any experience in leading. Would this life of public responsibility be too much of a burden for her? Would her heart remain with him while her spirit longed to be free?

He remembered his mother, especially in her last years. Her heart had remained gentle and kind, but she had seemed so frail, so broken.

_For love, we give all._

Those words had seemed like such a mystery to him when he was a boy. What strength of feeling would cause you to sacrifice everything, even your own life? He had never experienced such a depth of emotion before. Not before Melody. And now, it seemed so simple. How could he have ever thought that he would _not_ give all? For Melody, he would give all that he had, every possession, every comfort, just to know that she was safe, that she was happy, that she was cared for. Though the sacrifice ended his own life, he would give it. For this love, he would give all.

And truly, he would give all. For if ever he thought that an action of his had caused her pain or… He could hardly think of it… or her death… If that ever happened, he knew that his father was wrong. It was not a burden that would grow with time, unless the burden continued into the afterlife, for without her, his life would be forfeit. His life was an acceptable sacrifice, if it meant that she would continue to live. He could not imagine a world without her in it.

But now, the words took on an even deeper layer of meaning. For love, we give all. He would give his life for hers. But would he give his life for her freedom? Without her, his life would lose all meaning, not because he owed this life to her, but because he felt as if his life had not begun before she entered it. Was that an acceptable sacrifice? Was he willing to live a life without meaning, without light or hope, but with the knowledge that he could think of her and know that she was cared for, that she was protected, that she was loved? Was he truly willing to give all, even give her up, for this love? Somehow, this seemed like a greater sacrifice than his own life, and yet as he considered it, he realized that he was willing to do this.

However, even as he came to this conclusion, something about it seemed false. His mind circled around the concept in endless loops of thought, but that sense of falsehood would not leave him. Some bit of his logic was flawed. And there was only one man that he trusted with something as precious as this.

He found his path had already led him in the right direction without his knowledge. He was standing before the Houses of Healing. He went in and softly passed through the dim hallways until he reached his brother's room. He knew it was late, and didn't wish to disturb Faramir if he was sleeping, so he quietly pushed open the door and glanced inside. He should not have worried. Faramir stood by the window of his room, staring out into the night, a look of quiet reflection on his face. He turned when the door creaked and smiled.

"Ah, brother, I thought you might not come today."

Boromir slipped inside and carefully pushed the door closed behind him, "You should be resting, Faramir."

Faramir waved away his concern, "Rest, all I do is rest. I grow tired from resting." He pulled up a chair and waved at another for Boromir, "What brings you here so late?"

Boromir hesitated for only a moment, "I've been to see Father."

"And how does he fare?"

"Well. Much like you, he should be resting, but takes no comfort from it."

Faramir smiled, "Our family is not known to be much idle."

Boromir grinned, "No, it would seem not."

"But that is not why you've come to see me."

Faramir's eyes had always seen more in Boromir than any other. He could read his moods in the smallest gestures and most minute expressions. Boromir reached into the pouch on his belt and took out the box. Faramir's face grew still and reverent, even before Boromir opened it and revealed their mother's ring. Faramir sat back in his chair, his face unreadable, even to his brother.

"Boromir…"

"I know." He said, closing the box and putting it back in the pouch, "I know, it is too soon, far too soon, but…"

He stumbled over his words for a moment. Faramir sat forward again, his elbows on his knees, carefully considering the situation, just as Boromir expected of him.

"What did Father say?" Faramir asked. His voice held only a hint of emotion, but Boromir recognized it, concern and doubt.

"He… told me to trust to my own judgment."

"But that was not all he said." Faramir said, "Or you would certainly not be here with me. Tell me, brother, tell me what was said and I will help you if I can."

So Boromir did. He told Faramir everything that Denethor had said, and all the doubts and uncertainties that he felt. He wasn't even certain that everything he said made sense, but just as he always did, Faramir listened, quiet and attentive, allowing Boromir to voice all of his thoughts aloud, laying them out for examination.

When he had finally exhausted himself from talking in circles, Faramir sat back and considered everything that had been said to him. Boromir could see his mind working, making connections that Boromir could not see, putting together the puzzle of his words and making them into something sensible. Finally, Faramir spoke.

"There seems to be something you have forgotten, brother."

"Yes, yes I know, but I cannot place it." Boromir said, "Something feels false even as I say it aloud."

"You have forgotten Mel."

Boromir was first shocked, then his anger flared up, "I have not forgotten her! How could I forget her? Everything, all of this, is about her!"

Faramir shook his head, "No, Boromir, you have forgotten her, you just haven't realized it. Everything that you have said to me tonight has been about your feelings, what you would do, what you are willing to sacrifice. You have forgotten about Mel. Does she not have a say in this as much as you? Is she not also allowed to give all, should she choose to?"

Boromir was silent. His brother's words rang true. But the thought was disturbing. Melody should not have to sacrifice. She should not have to experience that pain.

"Father's pain is genuine, but I believe his opinion of Mother is flawed, colored by his own guilt and pride." Faramir said, "He assumes that he alone was responsible for her fate, and that is simply not true. Mother was not trapped here. No one forced her to be his bride. True, no one opposed the match, but neither was the match imposed upon her. Nor was she misled as to what that choice entailed. You knew her better than I, of course, but even I do not think that she was one to be easily deceived. She chose to come here, to live within these walls, to leave behind everything familiar to her, for a man she loved more than her own life. For love, she gave all, and it was her choice to do so. Is Mel not worthy of that same choice?"

"I would never make her choose to sacrifice for me." Boromir said bitterly.

"Then your sacrifices are more precious than hers?"

"No!" Boromir said, his anger surging again.

"Then let her make her choice, Boromir." Faramir said, his eyes turned as hard as flint, "If you love her as you say, do not deny her this. She has already given so much for you. If you wish to honor that sacrifice, then give up your selfish pride and let her make her choice."

Boromir knew that his brother was right. He knew it deep in his heart, but it only made him feel more anxious. What if she made the logical choice? What if she chose the elf that loved her and could give her a life among the trees she felt such a deep connection with?

Or… what if she chose him… and he was forced to watch her fade away?

Faramir put his hand on Boromir's knee, "I do not pretend to understand the turmoil that you feel, brother. I only know that I love you, and I want to see you happy. And though the days we live in are darker than any we have ever known, when you are with her I have never seen you happier. She makes you a stronger man, a better man. I see the love that you share, and it is the kind of love I dream of sharing with someone some day."

Faramir's words warmed his heart and he was reminded of why he had asked for his mother's ring in the first place, of the conviction he had felt. He loved her. He loved Melody, more than his life, more than his pride, more than anything. He felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his soul. He smiled and squeezed Faramir's shoulder affectionately.

"Thank you, little brother. As always, you light my way when my thoughts grow dark."

Faramir smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, "You're just turning into a stubborn old man, Boromir, sometimes you need a shove in the right direction. Someday, I expect you'll be forced to do the same for me."

Boromir stood, "Well, your stubborn old brother is now insisting that you get some rest."

"As should you." Faramir said, "You have a long march ahead of you."

Yes, he did. The host of the West would leave Minas Tirith tomorrow on the long, dark road to Mordor. There was so much yet to prepare. So much left to do.

Boromir left his brother's room, his thoughts scattered. Tomorrow. He would think more on it tomorrow.


	25. Chapter 25

******A/N:** SURPRISE! :D Since this is the LAST CHAPTER I'm posting for a month, I figured I would go ahead and post it early! Consider it a NaNoWriMo gift! And just to make sure everyone knows, I WILL NOT BE POSTING ANY UPDATES DURING THE MONTH OF NOVEMBER. I am spending this month writing 50,000 words of a novel :) You are welcome to join me in my epic quest by following me on Facebook (/azaldiatook) if you would like :) And I'll be back with all new chapters of Changing History the first week of December! I'll miss all of you and I promise, I'll make the chapters that follow worth the wait :D Thank you all and ENJOY!

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**Chapter 25**

Mel woke that morning feeling anxious. Today was the day. The Host of the West would march this morning. She had found out in a rather roundabout way, through snips of conversation, and finally a confirmation from Loriel. Once she had known, she had gone to her room to pack. She was fully prepared when Loriel woke her that morning. She had slept fitfully and felt far from rested, but she practically leapt out of bed when Loriel tapped on her door. The servant girl had ordered that a hot bath be drawn for her and had brought a fresh set of clothes for her to wear on the first day of the march. Folded neatly among the other things was a beautiful tunic, a deep forest green that matched her traveling cloak. Embroidered in gold on the front were two trees, entwined together over the Tengwar letter M. It looked terribly ornate and as Mel brushed her fingers over the stitching she felt a lump form in her throat.

"Oh, Loriel…" she sighed, "I just… How did you…?"

"I have been working on it almost since you arrived." Loriel said, "I had hoped to give it to you when all this business was over. But I would like it very much if you would wear it today."

"Of course, how could I not?" Mel exclaimed.

She put it on, along with the rest of her new clothes and her cloak, which still looked brand new. She had to admit, she looked pretty snazzy. She turned around and before Loriel could protest, she gave her a hug.

"Thank you." She murmured in the girl's ear, "Thank you so much for everything."

Loriel hugged her back tightly.

"Come back to us, my lady." She whispered, "This city will be dimmed without your presence."

When they pulled away, Mel could see that Loriel was wiping away tears. Her heart swelled and before she could start crying too, she belted on her sword and grabbed her pack. She took Loriel's hand one last time, and then she left, not looking back. If she looked back and saw the girl, her first friend in this place, standing there watching her go, she really would cry.

She made her way through the Citadel, stopping once more in the courtyard of the White Tree. She put her hand on the trunk, knowing that soon the old tree would be replaced with a sapling, a symbol of the kingdom of Gondor reborn. But for now the old tree still stood, watching over a kingdom torn by war and heartache.

"_It's almost over." _She whispered in her head, even knowing that there was nothing there to hear, _"It's almost over now. Soon, you can rest."_

She left the courtyard and headed toward the stables. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. She hadn't seen Boromir all day yesterday. She didn't know if that was intentional or not. Did he think if he didn't speak to her about it, that she simply wouldn't come? If so, he didn't know her as well as she thought he did.

When she entered the stable, she froze. Legolas and Gimli were there, Legolas saddling up a pretty white mare. She had only a fraction of a second to consider her options (which were very few anyway) before Gimli spotted her.

"Ah, Mel!" he cried, waving to her.

Legolas' head shot up when he heard her name. He turned and smiled broadly at her, also waving her over. It looked like Mel didn't really have a choice. She smiled walked over.

"Come to see us off, lass?" Gimli asked.

"See you off?" Mel asked, letting her surprise show in her voice, "Master Dwarf, if you think for one second that I'm just going to stand here and let you ride off to claim all the glory of this battle for yourself, you are quite mistaken!"

Legolas stopped in the middle of cinching his horse's girth. He didn't turn, he didn't look at her, he just stood there, frozen in mid pull.

Gimli's face lit up brilliantly, "That's the spirit! I knew we couldn't leave you behind! What did I tell you, lad? No leaving Mel behind, that's what I said!"

Mel was smiling at Gimli, but she was watching Legolas closely. She saw him take a few deep breaths, then slowly, he turned to face her. He looked terrified. The smile left Mel's face. She had never seen that look on Legolas' face before. Not when they had hidden from Saruman's spies, not through all the horrors of Moria, never had she seen him look as frightened as he did now. He dropped the strap he was holding and took her arm.

"Please Mel," he whispered, in a tone that made even Gimli's high spirits fall, "Please. Please don't do this."

The look on his face scared her, but it didn't change anything.

"I don't have a choice." She said.

"You always have a choice!" Legolas said, his grip on her arm tightening, "Don't do this, Mel, please, I'm begging you."

Mel reached out and brushed her fingertips on his cheek. If she didn't go, he might die. If she went, he might die still. But at least if she was there, she could make that choice. She would at least have that. She would know that she had done everything in her power to save him.

"No. I don't." She said.

She tried to walk away, but Legolas still had her arm, and he held her where she was.

"Mel…"

"Let me go, Legolas." She said, her voice rising, trying to jerk her arm away.

"Mel, please!"

"Let her go, lad." Gimli said, his face grave, "You know how she is, once she's set on a thing there's no stopping her."

For a moment, Mel and Legolas engaged in a silent battle, each trying to claim the advantage of wills. What Legolas didn't know was that there was nothing in all of Middle Earth that would keep her from this ride. And she was doing it for him.

"Legolas."

The dark voice of Boromir interrupted their battle. Neither of them had heard him come in. Mel turned to look and wished that she hadn't. His face was as dark as his voice had been, his eyes flashing violently, and his hand was on his sword.

Legolas' eyes burned with anger, but he let go of her arm. Mel pulled away and rubbed where his fingers had dug into her. Legolas glared at Boromir.

"Is this how you honor our bargain?" The elf said furiously, "Is this how you keep her from harm? You know what this is!"

Bargain? What bargain? Mel's eyes flicked between Legolas and Boromir. They had made a bargain? About her? And she didn't know? Mel felt a swell of indignation. When had this happened? And what did the bargain entail?

Boromir said nothing, his eyes still flashing. His hand hadn't moved from his sword. Legolas glared for a moment more, then he turned, finished tightening the saddle of his mount, then led it out of the stable. Gimli started to follow him, but at the stable door he paused and turned back for a moment.

"For what it's worth, lass, riding into battle with you is an honor."

Despite the tension in the air, Mel felt herself relax. She smiled at Gimli, "I am honored to ride into battle with you, Gimli, son of Gloin."

The dwarf nodded, then slipped out the door after Legolas. Boromir hadn't moved, but now he finally seemed to relax. He stepped toward her and gently took her arm in his hands.

"Are you hurt?" he murmured softly, brushing the spot Legolas had gripped her.

Mel stiffened at his touch. She was still a little upset about the "bargain" she didn't know about.

"No." She said, "He wouldn't hurt me. He's just scared."

"We are all afraid, Melody." He said, his tone tense.

Mel turned to look at him, "What did he mean, about a bargain? What bargain?"

Boromir sighed as if he had been dreading this conversation, "Before making the journey up the slopes of Caradhas, Legolas came to me. He told me that you had felt fear when Saruman's spies had passed over us."

Mel remembered. She remembered the paralyzing terror that had gripped her, the first time she had feared for her own life. She remembered shivering in Legolas' arms and his soft voice whispering in her ear.

"_Do not despair, mellon. You have friends with you. We will see you through to the end of these dark days."_

Boromir took her hand in both of his, "He took an oath from me that day, that together, we would keep you safe." He dropped his eyes, "To my shame, I have not done all I should to keep my share of our bargain."

Despite her resistance to it, Mel felt her indignation fade away. They would never want to hurt her. They wanted to help her. And in those early days, she had needed that help. Truthfully, she still needed it. But she couldn't let it continue. She touched Boromir's cheek and when he looked up she smiled.

"Things were different then. I was a different person. But you can't protect me from everything, Boromir." She said, "That's not how it works. We protect each other. I watch your back and you watch mine. That goes for Legolas too, whether he likes it or not."

Boromir took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm.

"I know." He whispered, "All the same, I was hoping you would not be here."

That made Mel smirk, "You should know better."

"I knew that the likelihood was small, but I still held hope." He cupped her face in his hand, "But you are here now. And there is no one else I would rather make this journey with."

Mel felt her chest fill up with warm flutters. Boromir leaned down and kissed her softly. Then he left and came back with two horses, his own steed, and the same war horse that had led Mel into battle on the Pelennor Fields. Together they tacked up and then led their horses out of the stables.

They rode to the first level, where others were starting to gather in the courtyard at the main gates. There was a large group of riders, but Mel was surprised at the number of soldiers on foot. Mordor wasn't exactly a short jog from the city. This was going to be a much longer march than Mel remembered.

Work had been postponed on the repair of the gates, but they had been worked enough that they now were able to be opened and closed. Mel dismounted and led her horse to the gates. As she stepped through, she could feel the energy in the air around the tree standing guard at the gate. She reached out and placed her hand on his blackened trunk.

"_Hello, Andonil."_

The trunk shivered under her touch and she could hear his branches creaking above her.

"_Greetings, Calenhiril."_

His voice sounded stronger and Mel could feel a strength inside of him that she hadn't felt before. She smiled.

"_I wanted to make sure you were alright." _She said, _"I'm going away for a while. I don't know when I'll be back."_

"_You join the march to the Dead Land?"_ He asked.

Mel had never heard it called the Dead Land, but she guessed that was the trees' name for Mordor. It seemed fitting.

"_Yes. I have to go."_

"_To save the one you love."_

Mel jerked her hand from the trunk, even though she knew that didn't make any difference, _"How do you know that?"_

"_We are the children of Yavanna," _Andonil answered, _"When her Daughter is distressed we are not deaf to her anguish."_

"_You can hear her?" _Mel asked, suddenly anxious for anything, any connection to Yavanna at all, _"What does she say? What should I do?"_

"_She cries for you, Calenhiril,"_ Andonil said, sadly, "_But her tears are silent. We know only that she weeps for your broken heart."_

Mel felt like she could kick something in frustration. What was she supposed to do? Just give up? How could she do that? She couldn't let one of the two most important people in her life just die. She couldn't accept that. There had to be another way.

She took a deep breath and calmed her anger. It wouldn't do any good to stew about it. She had to be calm. She had to think rationally.

She reached out and put her hand on the black trunk again, _"I will find a way." _She said, "_Can you tell her that? Tell her I will find a way."_

"Mel?"

She jumped and turned. Legolas stood at the gates, watching her. He didn't look angry or scared any longer. He looked like Legolas had always looked, calm and controlled. Mel didn't know what to think about that. But she couldn't help smiling at him. He was her best friend, she would always be happy to see him.

Her smile seemed to relax him a bit. He took a few steps forward and looked into Andonil's devastated branches.

"I have heard the tale." He said, "Of the Sentries of Minas Tirith, the Guardians of the Gates."

He looked back at her, "I am sorry for your loss, mellon."

"It is not so much my loss as his." She said, "I should have protected them."

"You did all that you could. They say you stayed to the point of death to keep them safe."

"It wasn't enough."

"If it was all you could do, then it was enough." Legolas took another step forward and reached for her, brushing her hand, "You can't save everyone, Mel."

She took his hand and held it tightly.

"I have to." Mel said, wistfulness slipping into her voice, "There has to be a way."

"Legolas."

They both turned. Gimli was standing at the gate.

"We're almost ready, lad."

Legolas met Mel's eyes and smiled, squeezing her hand, "Of all the sword maidens in all the lands, if anyone can find a way, Melody of the Forests, you can."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple before Mel had a chance to move away. Then he let go of her hand and strode away before she could respond. Mel could have kicked him, but she resorted to glaring at his back. Stubborn, hard-headed, ridiculous elf-prince. Why did he have to continue making everything so hard for her? She had enough going on.

Gimli gave her a wink, but when she turned her glare on him, the dwarf beat a hasty retreat. Once they were both out of sight, Mel sighed. What was she going to do? She turned around and put her hand on Andonil's trunk once more.

"_Farewell, Calenhiril." _He said, _"I wish you fair skies and fine earth."_

Mel smiled. What a tree-ish thing to say.

"_Until we next meet, Andonil, Keeper of the White City."_

She left him and came back inside the walls. Her eyes found Boromir just as he found her. He came to stand beside her.

"I thought you might have slipped outside for a moment." He said, "How does he fare?"

"He seems much better." Mel said, "I think he's going to be alright."

"Mel!"

Pippin's enthusiastic voice drew Mel's attention. She grinned as the hobbit hurried through the crowd toward her, decked out in his Citadel Guard uniform. What she didn't expect was Merry following behind, his face looking downcast.

"Mel, I'll be going on the march!" Pippin said enthusiastically, "Gandalf says I shall represent the Shire!"

Instantly, Mel knew what the problem was. Merry was still far too weak to make such a journey. He was going to be left behind. She smiled at Pippin and tried to be happy for him, but she felt sorry for Merry. It had to be so hard for him.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the courtyard. The crowd of soldiers parted and Aragorn stepped forward, leading his mount. He was dressed rather plainly, just a dark blue tunic emblazoned with the White Tree, but the hushed awe that followed in his wake made him seem regal. Gandalf followed behind him, along with Prince Imrahil and Lord Eomer. They all came forward and lined up next to Boromir, facing the army that was waiting for their order to march. Mel suddenly felt very self-conscious. This was not her place. She shouldn't be standing here with these men, these leaders, and princes, and kings. She was no one.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Boromir reached out and took her hand, gripping it tightly. That simple gesture calmed her heart. If Boromir wanted her there, then she would stay. She glanced the other direction and saw that Legolas had come up on her other side. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and managed a twinkling of a smile. Mel suddenly felt relieved. Boromir on her right side, Legolas on her left, her best friend and the man she loved. This… this was where she belonged.

"Raise the banner." Aragorn called, his voice deep and reverent.

Behind him, a large deep blue cloth was unfurled. It was the banner that had flown from the mast of the corsair ship. It rippled lightly in the breeze that wisped through the courtyard, the jewels that made up the seven stars glittering in the morning sun. No one made a sound. No one moved. Mel was pretty sure every soldier was holding his breath.

Then Aragorn mounted his horse and the lords did the same, Mel following suit. Aragorn took a moment to look out over the army that had gathered there, ready to defend Middle Earth, down to the last man if necessary. To Mel, it seemed like a huge force, but she knew that they were tiny compared to the enemy they marched out to face.

Finally, Aragorn turned to face the open plains. He spoke only a single word.

"Forward!"

Boromir put the Horn of Gondor to his lips and blew three long mighty blasts. The sound was deep and sorrowful, and reverberated in Mel's heart. The Last March of the Host of Gondor had begun


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **Okay guys, new chapter, and before you say anything, yes, it's short; yes, it ends abruptly, but it's all I have for you. I'm really sorry. I'm on vacation at my parents' house for Christmas, we're trying to buy me a new car (hopefully for a price that will mean I **don't **have to eat nothing but Ramen for the next five years...), so I'm a little stressed out right now. I promise, I have other, **better**things coming, just please stick with me until the holiday season is over. Thank you guys so much, I really appreciate your patience with me :)

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**Chapter 26**

The company on horseback rode at a steady pace all day, gradually leaving the men on foot behind. No one seemed concerned about this, so Mel didn't concern herself. They stopped briefly in Osgiliath to inspect the repair work being done there. If their mission failed (Mel knew it wouldn't, but she didn't say that), Osgiliath would be the first stronghold the Enemy would be forced to breach. Unfortunately, there wasn't much left. The city was in ruins, but there were men busily working to repair the bridges and secure the walls as best they could. Gimli offered up his expertise for the fastest way to repair the damage to the stonework, while the other lords observed. Mel found it fascinating, especially watching Gimli in what was actually his natural line of work. He was focused and precise and very informative, even if Mel didn't really understand half of what he was talking about.

After a quick lunch they set out again, riding until the sun was low at their backs. They came to a crossroads and the decision was made to camp there. Heralds were sent down each of the road ways and Mel could hear them as they blew their horns, declaring that the King had come and reclaimed these lands. Then they broke for camp.

Mel was placed in her own tent, among the tents of her friends. But she noticed that her tent was conspicuously placed between the tent Gandalf and Pippin were sharing and Aragorn's own tent, and as far from Boromir's tent as possible. It was never mentioned, but someone had obviously been paying attention and Mel was grateful. As the only woman present, she was aware of her precarious position. By now, her new relationship with the Steward's son was most likely common knowledge and any hint of impropriety would only make Boromir's position more difficult, and put her own status into question. It was just one less thing she had to think about. And she had enough on her mind without having to worry about gossip.

That night there was a war council with all the lords. Mel was in attendance, but most of the talk was gibberish, supplies and tactics, things that meant almost nothing to her. Boromir and Legolas sat on either side of her and, even though Mel thought it was probably imaginary, she could feel a pulsing tension between them. She might have been able to handle the constant tension if that was all it was. But this had never just been about who held her heart and whose heart she must break. Hanging over every tense word, every pointed gesture, was a heavy cloud that threatened to sink down and engulf her at any given moment. Soon, though she wasn't sure when, Mel would have to make a choice. An impossible choice. A life for a life.

She felt like her lungs were being pressed flat every time she thought about it. Panic welled up inside her. Her hands started to sweat. Her body trembled. How? How was she supposed to make this choice? How was she going to live afterward?

"Mel?"

Pippin's voice cut sharply through her thoughts. The hobbit was watching her from across the room, concern creasing his forehead.

"Mel, are you alright? You just went white as a sheet."

Suddenly, both Boromir's and Legolas' attention were on her. She could feel their eyes, feel their worry, feel their love. It made her feel like she was suffocating.

"I… I think I just need some air." She managed to mutter, stumbling to her feet.

"I'll accompany you." Boromir said, standing with her, but she waved him away.

"No, I'm alright, you should stay, I'll be right back."

She saw Legolas start to get up, but she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

"Really, I'm okay." She said, making a point of directing her words straight at him. She couldn't breathe and even though they didn't know it, the two of them weren't helping. She just needed to get out and breathe.

She slipped out of the council tent and took a deep breath of the cool night air. It smelled fresh, despite the hint of smoke from the cooking fires and Mel could hear the murmur of the trees that surrounded them. She wanted to walk away, walk into the trees and just be alone, just for a little while, and pretend that none of this was happening.

But she couldn't do that. First, it was dangerous. Anything could be out in the woods, just waiting for someone to slip out of the firelight. And besides, pretending that this wasn't happening wouldn't make it go away. She would eventually have to come back and she would be faced with the same heart wrenching decision that had been plaguing her mind and her heart. What was she going to do? Without knowing what situation the Valar would put her in, it was hard to come up with any alternate scenarios, a loophole out of taking the life she would have to choose. She was scared, more than she had ever been in her life, and the worst part, was that she was alone. She had no one to confide in. The two people that she trusted most in the whole world were out of reach to her this time. And soon, one would be out of reach forever.

"Mel?"

She jumped and quickly wiped away the tear that had slipped unnoticed down her cheek. Pippin had slipped out of the tent soundlessly and now stood by her side.

"Mel, why are you crying?" he asked, his voice trembling.

At first, Mel didn't understand why he looked so frightened. The choice had nothing to do with him. It took her a moment to realize that her choice was not what frightened him. He didn't even know about it. Her tears frightened him for an entirely different reason, one that Mel hadn't even considered, and she instantly felt guilty about it. She smiled reassuringly at the little hobbit.

"It's nothing to do with this, Pippin." She said, waving her hand around the camp, "Everything's going to be fine, I promise."

His face relaxed a little, but he still looked concerned, "But, why are you crying?"

Mel took a deep breath, "It's… complicated. It's something to do with me."

"Is it because Boromir and Legolas are fighting over you?" he asked.

Mel was a bit taken aback by his frankness, "They aren't fighting over me!"

Pippin rolled his eyes, "Of course they are. Everyone knows it."

Mel was shocked and embarrassed. Everyone? Oh god, this was awful. What must they think of her?

Pippin's face softened sympathetically, "You're going to have to pick one of them, aren't you?"

Mel nodded, "Yes, I guess I am."

"And whichever one you pick, the other won't be happy about it, will they?"

Mel shook her head, "No. No, they won't."

Pippin reached out and took her hand, "Well, you'll always have me and Merry. We won't fight over you, I promise. You won't have to be sad because of us."

It was so sweet and genuine, it made Mel smile, "Thanks, Pippin. That actually made me feel much better."

Pippin grinned, "Ready to go back in? You can sit by me if you like."

Mel's grin widened, "Alright."

The two walked back into the tent together, Pippin leading Mel by the hand, pulling her right past Legolas and Boromir, to a seat right beside him. Mel met their eyes and shrugged, smiling. The matching confusion on their faces was almost enough to make her laugh. The horror had lifted for now.

The next day, while they were waiting for the army on foot to catch up, Aragorn, Gandalf and some of the lords went with a company of men to the edge of the Morgul Vale, and Mel insisted on going too. This might be her last chance to see it and there was no way she was missing it. Neither Boromir nor Legolas understood that. It was an evil place, a dangerous place, and both of them wanted her to remain behind. Of course, that made no difference and before midday the men were on their way and Mel was with them.

They reached the edge of the Morgul Vale in a few hours. Even though the sun was high in the sky, the valley felt dark and dreary. It was empty, most of the hordes either dead at Pelennor Fields or fled to the north to join the rest of their Master's forces. But there was still a palpable feeling of evil in the air that made Mel's skin crawl. There was a bridge, pale and carved with horrible writhing forms and faces, spanning a little stream. The banks of the stream were covered in white flowers, not pretty, but twisted and horrible and there was a rotten smell that came from them. The water steamed as if it were hot, but as they approached the bridge, Mel felt a damp chill come over her. The vapor was freezing cold.

They reached the bridge, but they didn't dare pass over it. On the other side, rising into the sky, was the tower of Minas Morgul. Though it was dim now, dull and lifeless, Mel still felt a shiver of terror when she looked at it. The entire company was silent, staring down into the valley and Mel wondered if maybe she shouldn't have come after all. She wanted more than anything to take Boromir's hand, but her pride wouldn't allow it. She'd asked to come. She was going to tough it out.

After a moment, Aragorn motioned a group of men forward.

"Destroy the bridge." He said solemnly, "And burn the fields."

The men quickly scattered and the work was done more quickly than Mel could have imagined. The bridge was destroyed, broken down and sent crumbling into the swirling water. Then the fields were set ablaze, the white flowers withering into charred ash as the fire swept through them in red waves. They stayed only long enough to ensure that the job was done, then they turned and headed back to camp.

Mel took one moment to get a last glimpse of the tower, because she was sure it would be the last time she would ever see it. Once the War was over, Aragorn would order that it be destroyed, and Mel was grateful. She knew that it had once been a beautiful city, but there was nothing left of that now. It was all darkness and horror.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** I'm sure you're all tired of hearing my excuses by now, so I won't bore you with them. Suffice it to say, I'm back and I'll be working harder than ever to get chapter updates out on time now that the holidays are over :) Enjoy!

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**Chapter 27**

The next few days were nothing but monotonous riding. At first it wasn't so bad. The land was almost pretty, wooded and green with a scattering of rocks marking the foot of the mountains to the east. The landscape was nice and the weather was pretty, but over everything there hung a misty gloom, a shadow that you just couldn't get out from under, a grim feeling. And always Mel felt as if they were being watched, just beyond the thickets. The trees were silent here, or spoke only in hushed whispers, rumors of darkness and evil lurking just beyond their sight. Mel kept her mind open constantly, listening for any definitive information that might prove useful. It kept her mind off of the less pleasant things that lay ahead of her.

That's how she was the first to know about the ambush. It was late afternoon, the sun was sinking, and Mel was starting to look forward to making camp. The tension between Boromir and Legolas had been grating on her nerves more than usual and all she wanted right then was to just have a moment of peace in her tent by herself, just a moment.

Suddenly, she felt a clamor of panic in her head, so strong that she pulled her horse up short, her heart racing. It was the trees in her head.

"_They are ahead of you, Calenhiril!" _one of the trees whispered frantically, _"Just ahead! They mean to take you by surprise!"_

"Melody?"

Boromir's voice cut through the panic in her mind. Both Boromir and Legolas had turned around and were staring at her.

"Mel, are you alright?" Legolas asked.

"We need to stop." Mel said, a touch of the trees hysteria finding it's way into her voice, "Tell Aragorn we have to stop."

"What is it, what's wrong?" Legolas asked.

But Boromir didn't hesitate. He turned his horse around and called out to Aragorn, bringing the army to a sudden halt. It only took a moment and the lords had surrounded her, Aragorn beside her and looking very grave.

"What is it, Mel?" he asked in a calm, steady voice.

"The trees," Mel said, "They say there's an ambush, just ahead. A group of orcs and men are waiting for us just beyond these hills."

"We have scouts out ahead," The young Lord Dervorin said, with a touch of arrogance, "If there were a trap, they would have warned us."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, a man came galloping down the road and right into the midst of them.

"What word, Mablung?" Aragorn asked.

"A company of orcs and Easterlings lie in wait just beyond the ridge, my lord." The man said.

The lords were all silent, then looked at Aragorn and waited. He hesitated only a moment.

"Lord Dervorin, take your men and strike out westward. Take Mablung with you, so that he can show you how best to skirt the enemy. The rest of us will continue forward and meet you on the other side of the pass."

Lord Dervorin nodded and turned away, his face a blank mask. It was the second time he had doubted Mel's judgment, but somehow Mel couldn't bring herself to resent him for it. After all, if she were in his position, she probably wouldn't believe her either.

Aragorn turned to the rest of the lords, "Make your men ready. We ride on in half an hour."

The lords scattered and the word spread like wild fire among the men. There was going to be a battle. Some of the men were more excited than others.

"Finally, some action around here!" Gimli muttered from his perch behind Legolas, gripping his ax tightly.

"I think you'll see plenty of action before this is over, Gimli." Mel said, grinning despite the knot of nervousness in her stomach.

"Aye, but all this riding for days on end, it's not good for the muscles. Got to stay limber, you know."

Gimli stretched out his arms to demonstrate and almost went tumbling off the back of his horse. He was able to catch himself on Legolas' tunic, but Mel had to smother her giggles. She didn't think hysterical laughter was probably appropriate right now. She finally got control of herself, despite Gimli's grunts and harumphs of disapproval.

Legolas was smiling at her. Mel felt the nervous knot in her stomach tighten.

"What?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but coming out more like a scared squeak.

Legolas shook his head, still smiling, "You are a wonder, Mel, truly."

Mel opened her mouth to respond, but Boromir's voice cut through the silence "Surely it has not taken you so long to realize it, Legolas?"

His voice sounded light, but something in his eyes was hard and dark. Mel didn't like that look. It made her even more anxious. It reminded her of what she had to lose.

Legolas turned a cool smile on Boromir, "Of course not, Boromir. But she has come far, don't you think?"

Boromir looked down at Mel and he must have seen something of her fear in her eyes, because his hard glance softened.

"Yes," He murmured, "Yes she has."

Mel felt her heart melt and at the same time she felt a shot of panic flood her veins. She couldn't do this. She couldn't make this choice…

Suddenly a horn sounded, jerking Mel back to the present again. The army started moving. They were going into a battle, a small one, but a battle all the same. Was this it? Would this be the moment she would have to choose?

"Melody, I would like you to ride close to me." Boromir said.

"Legolas too." Mel blurted out before she had a chance to think about her words. The look of confusion and hurt on Boromir's face made her wish that she could take them back. But she couldn't risk being away from either of them right now. This was too important.

"Of course." Legolas said, "We'll be right beside you."

Mel nodded, but the churning in her stomach made her wonder if she would survive to make the choice. She felt sick and dizzy. They rode to the front of the company and began the slow march through the hills. Every minute that they moved forward felt like a year. Mel could hear the trees whispering around her in frantic voices, some of them begging her to turn back, to run, to keep away. She took a moment to reassure them, to remind them that she didn't have that choice. She had to continue. But the nervous energy was a constant fluttering in her head, making her heart pound against her rib cage. It was difficult to tell where the trees energy ended and her own fears began.

Finally, in the distance, Mel could hear a clash of metal and voices crying out. Aragorn pulled his sword and the rest of them followed suit.

"Forward!" Aragorn cried.

Boromir let loose a blast on the Horn of Gondor and suddenly they were rushing headlong into a battle that was already well underway, catching the group of scattered orcs and Easterlings off guard as they swooped in and trapped them in the pass. Mel charged in and let her adrenaline and her training take over, swinging at orcs and tattooed men alike and letting her horse trample those that got in her way.

But as she slogged further into the fray, following Boromir, she began to notice a disturbing trend. As she approached an orc with her sword raised, an arrow suddenly sprouted in his throat. He went down in a gurgle of black blood. This was not so unusual. But the next enemy she approached, a large Easterling, also sprouted an arrow shaft, this one from his eye. The next challenger was hit in the chest. Then another in the stomach. Every opponent she came across seemed to be meeting gruesome ends, but not by her hand. And she knew who was responsible for it.

She felt a twinge of anger start to burn in her chest. The battle was short, most of the work done before they'd even arrived, but by the time their work was done, the twinge of anger had been blown into a raging inferno. As soon as she could see that the battle was done, she whirled her mount and found Legolas only a few feet behind her. She locked him with a furious glare.

"What the hell was that?" she said, her voice just short of a shriek.

Legolas stared down at her confused, "What do you mean?"

Mel leaped from her horse and yanked an arrow shaft out of the chest of an orc at her feet, the last orc that had approached her. She shoved the arrow at Legolas, covering him in black blood.

"This!" she said, "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Legolas stared down at the blood stained arrow, "I don't think I understand."

"Goddamn it, Legolas!" Mel screamed, her anger really boiling now, "It's not like I've never killed an orc before! Despite what you think, jackass, I AM capable of keeping myself alive for more than five seconds without you hovering over me like I'm some kind of weak-ass GIRL!"

Her cheeks were burning with fury and injured pride. Legolas eyes were wide, staring at her like she was someone he didn't even know. Which, apparently, was more true than Mel had realized.

"Mel, I… I didn't mean…"

Mel lowered her voice to a growl, "Never do that again. Ever."

Then she turned and stormed off, tugging her horse behind her. She was angry, but she was also hurt. And after screaming at her best friend for treating her like a weak-ass girl, she certainly couldn't be seen crying like one. She heard Boromir call out to her, but she just put up a hand and kept walking.

She marched right across the battlefield and to the other side of the hills before she stopped to catch her breath. No one had followed her. She took a moment to compose herself. She'd made her point and she could already feel her anger subsiding. She would apologize later, but she was pretty sure that Legolas would never make that same mistake again. Was she really so different now than she had been before? She didn't think so, but then again, maybe she was simply too close to see it. A lot had happened, and it had undoubtedly changed her. Legolas couldn't really be blamed for not realizing how drastic that change was.

She took a few deep breaths, then came out of the scrub. The men had moved a little distance from the battleground and begun to make camp. Tents were being erected around her. She first found where the horses were being gathered and tended her mount. The mindless task helped to further calm and rationalize her mind. She felt a single spark of relief. The choice had not been given to her today. She had a little more time. But how much time was left? The thought made her suddenly anxious to apologize to Legolas. She didn't want anything between them if she could help it.

She left the horses and found him oiling his bow just outside of the tent he shared with Gimli. He heard her approach and quickly leapt to his feet, his face anxious.

"Mel! Egla elenath, I want you to know how sorry I am."

Mel shook her head, "No, Legolas, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you, after all, it isn't your fault."

"No, it is! It is my fault. I was being foolish." He reached out and took her hand in both of his, "You are like no other woman I have ever met, Mel. And for a moment I lost sight of that. I was afraid for you, and I acted without thought. Please, say that you forgive me."

Mel smiled. She had already forgiven him, but even if she hadn't, she couldn't have denied him forgiveness now. She knew what it was to act out of fear for one you cared about, without thought for the consequences. She squeezed his hand.

"Of course I forgive you." She said.

Legolas looked relieved, but only for a moment. His face suddenly grew grave and his eyes searched her face in a way that made Mel squirm uncomfortably.

"Now that we are friends again, will you tell me what has troubled you these last few days?"

Mel's breath caught in her throat and she fought to keep a straight face. Did he know about the choice? How was that possible? No, no he couldn't know. She forced herself to breathe.

"Nothing's bothering me." She said, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably, even in her own ears.

She tried to take back her hand, but Legolas gripped it tighter, his eyes burning into her.

"Mel, you cannot deceive me. We might have been parted for a time, but I still know you and you are acting so strangely. You are stiff and uneasy, and when your mind drifts off, you look so…" He seemed to struggle for the right word, "So sad."

Mel turned away self-consciously. She hadn't wanted him to see that. She had thought she was doing alright, keeping everything to herself, but obviously she had been wrong. He had seen the pain that the choice was causing her and she had no explanation to give him. As much as she wished she could tell him everything, she knew that it would only make things more difficult in the end.

Legolas reached out and touched her cheek, bringing her eyes back to his kind face again.

"Tell me what makes your heart so sad, Mel."

Mel shook her head, "I can't." She back out of his touch, "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Of course you can." Legolas said, smiling so beautifully, "Mellon, you may tell me anything."

"Not this."

Legolas' smile faltered. Mel felt her heart breaking. She was hurting him. But there was no other way.

"I'm sorry, Legolas. But I really can't tell you. It's mine to figure out on my own."

His smile was gone now, replaced by a blank expression that Mel wished she hadn't seen. He was hurt and he was hiding it from her. Even now, he was protecting her when she didn't need protecting. She needed him to understand her, not hide from her. She wished she could explain it to him, but she couldn't seem to find the words, words that would say what she needed without telling him why.

Before she could speak, a chill passed over her so suddenly that she gasped and a shiver ran through her whole body. Legolas had an arrow pulled back on his bowstring faster than Mel's eyes could follow, his eyes scanning the darkening sky. Mel felt another chill pass through her and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep from shivering herself to pieces. The whole camp had gone suddenly silent, a grim cloud seemed to have descended on them all. Finally, Legolas lowered his bow, but his eyes were still trained on the open sky. Mel tried to follow his gaze, but she didn't see anything.

"Nazgul." Legolas said, his voice dark and dangerous, "Too high to catch with an arrow."

"Scouts."

The voice behind them was Boromir's. He came up beside Mel and put an arm around her, rubbing her arms to warm them. Mel caught a flash of fire in Legolas' eyes before he turned them back to the sky. Mel didn't like that look in his eyes. It was a reminder of feelings she could never return and she was beginning to believe might never be erased.

Boromir however didn't seem to notice. He kept his arm around her and his eyes on the sky, though Mel knew he couldn't see them anymore than she could.

"They will have seen the skirmish, report back to Sauron with our strength and number, keep an eye on us."

"You mean, they're going to follow us?" Mel asked, feeling a cold drip of dread creep down her spine.

Boromir nodded, "That is highly likely. The Dark Lord will want to keep a watchful gaze on our approach."

Mel shivered again at the thought of this constant darkness shadowing them until they reached Mordor. Was it not enough that she carried her own darkness within her, now another darkness had to shadow her too? How was she supposed to think? She could feel her mind starting to spiral down into that crushing panic that had become so familiar to her.

"I… I need a minute." She managed to gasp out. Then she turned away and left the two men behind, trying not to feel their eyes watching her.

* * *

**A/N:** Reminder- "Egla elenath"= "Thank the stars" :D


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Boromir was concerned, though he tried to keep it hidden. He knew it would only upset Melody more if she knew he was concerned about her. That was where the elf had failed. He had shown too much concern, and to Melody that was a sign of her own weakness. The last thing she had ever wanted was to feel weak or be perceived as such by anyone. She had striven always to be an equal in a world that she barely understood, and for the most part she had succeeded. She had changed so much since Boromir had found her, lost and frightened in the woods of Rivendell.

But knowing this about her did not mean that he was not still concerned. Something was troubling Melody. Though Legolas had gone about seeking the source of her anxiety in the wrong way, he had been right about that. But knowing the wrong way to approach Melody did not mean that Boromir knew the right way. She had already retreated from everyone around her, even Pippin whom she loved so dearly. Boromir didn't want to push her even farther away. He simply didn't know how to reach her.

So he had contented himself with waiting, though it was difficult. When she felt it was time to reveal the source of her melancholy, she would come to him. Boromir felt confident in that. His confidence only faltered when he considered the possibility that she might wait until it was too late for him to help her. But he pushed these worries aside as quickly as they arose. He loved her and he trusted her judgment. He would wait until she came to him, because that was what she needed him to do.

So he stayed close to her side, making himself available for such a time when she might need him. But Legolas seemed to have the same idea. The elf had been keeping close to Melody and it had been grating on Boromir's nerves for some time now. The weight of his mother's ring swinging from his belt made him anxious for time alone with Melody, something which neither propriety, nor the elf-prince, seemed willing to allow him. And despite Melody's assurances of her love for him, Boromir knew a rival when he saw one, and it irked him. However, if he made his irritation known, it would do nothing to strengthen his standing in Melody's affections. It would only appear to her that he didn't trust her, something which was completely false. So he kept his peace about it. Until they reached the Morannon.

They reached the end of the forests of Ithilien on the fourth day of their march east. The trees abruptly ended and the army was faced with the dark wasteland of the Morannon. The plains surrounding Mordor were nothing but black rock and ash, and over everything the evil chill of the Nazgul hung like a damp cloud in the air, a steady dread that couldn't be seen, only felt. The men stopped and Boromir looked behind him. He saw so many frightened faces, so many men who had not expected such a mission of death. And he knew that he could not rally their spirits. Not even the Horn of Gondor, the symbol of his family's power for generations, would be enough to bring back the courage of these men.

Then out of the silence, Aragorn's voice rang out.

"If there are those of you who would travel no further, go! But keep what honor you may, and do not run! And there is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed. Take your way southwest until you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, as I think, then retake it, if you can; and hold it to the last in defense of Gondor and Rohan!"

There was a murmur among the men, some quickly taking up their arms and gathering together to the southwest, preparing to make their way to the stronghold at Cair Andros. But there were a few for whom Aragorn's words seemed to have resolved them otherwise. Their faces hardened and their stances became that of braver men who would not turn away, not even to an honorable charge. Boromir felt his heart swell with pride for these men. He hoped they would live to see the results of their bravery.

He turned and saw Melody looking out sadly over the men that remained in their company. She knew what he knew also, that most would not survive this march. He suddenly felt a strong impulse to send her with them, to the southwest, to Cair Andros. Though it was held by the Enemy it could be no worse than that which they went to meet. But he held his tongue, for he knew that she would not go. He could see it in her eyes, the way she held her head, the set of her jaw. It was a look he knew very well, a look of resolution that would not be swayed. Anything he said or did to move her would be a wasted gesture.

However, Legolas seemed not to recognize it. The elf edged his mount up to Melody's other side and leaned toward her.

"Melody, perhaps you should consider taking the road southwest."

Before he had spoken five words, Boromir saw the fire flash in Melody's eyes. Boromir recognized this look and made an attempt to diffuse her before she became rash.

"Melody…" He said cautiously.

Her furious eyes whirled toward him, burning viciously. He held up a hand to try to stop her anger from lashing out at him.

"I'm sure Legolas only means to settle your mind. You have been quite remote of late."

"Yes, your mind is not at all where it should be." Legolas broke in eagerly, causing Melody's furious glare to swing his way, "Perhaps holding Cair Andros…"

Boromir tried to stop him, but it was far too late. Melody was beyond rational thought now.

"You want me to run?" she asked, her voice just below a shout, "You think I came all this way, and now I'll just turn back because you say so?"

Only now did the elf seem to realize his mistake. He seemed to be trying to think of a way to remedy his error, but Melody did not give him the chance. She leaned forward and lowered her voice dangerously.

"Well, good luck, elf-prince. Because now, I wouldn't turn back if Sauron himself came out to face me. For better or worse, you're stuck with me."

Her choice of words struck Boromir a fierce blow. So casually spoken, but for Boromir they were layered with more meaning than Melody could ever know. For better or worse… Marriage vows. And she had spoken them to Legolas. No matter how angrily she had meant them, the words spoken to his rival made a part of him very angry, not at Melody, for how could she know the impact of her words. No, in lieu of any real target for his anger, he instead directed it toward the recipient of those words, Legolas.

It boiled just under the surface of his thoughts as they made camp there at the edge of the desolation. He found himself reliving all the grievances of the elf upon not only himself, but upon Melody. His forcing himself upon her on the fields of Pelennor, his insistence on continuing his courtship of her even after her rejection of him, his persistence in being present during every moment of their precious time together. All of these things seemed to build up and expand until they filled every part of Boromir's mind.

Then suddenly the swirling thoughts seemed to culminate into a furious revelation. Was it possible that Melody's troubled mind was due to Legolas' continued advances? Her melancholy and her withdrawal had begun in Minas Tirith, following the return of Legolas and the revealing of his feelings for her. Boromir knew that she cared a great deal about the elf. And he knew from previous observation of similar relationships that if Legolas' persistence did not relent soon, it would undoubtedly end in heartbreak and feelings not likely to ever be mended. Melody treasured her friends, but none so much as Legolas. If she was forced to break ties with him, a man she considered to be her most faithful friend, it would break her heart.

The possibility that this ridiculous rivalry might be the cause of Melody's recent distress resolved Boromir's mind. It was unacceptable. Something had to be done. And he had never been a patient man.

That evening, after they had dined, he made a point to catch Legolas at a moment when Melody was in conversation with Pippin. He took the elf's elbow so he would be sure to have his attention.

"I need to speak with you." He said in a low voice.

Legolas smiled amiably, "Of course, Boromir. What would you like to talk about?"

Boromir's eyes darted to Melody, who was now looking at them both with a slightly worried expression on her face.

"Not here." He said, his voice still low.

Legolas followed his eyes, then he nodded, "As you wish."

They left the large meeting tent together and walked through the camp. The night was cool, but the cloud of fear that resulted from the watchful eyes of the Nazgul made the air feel oppressive and heavy. Or perhaps it was the weight of Boromir's thoughts that made it seem so. They walked quickly through the camp, and once they were out of sight of the tent, Legolas spoke.

"Now, what is it that you would say to me, Boromir, that you would not have reach Mel's ears?"

Boromir kept walking. If Melody had followed them out, he did not want her to catch up to them.

"It is about Melody that I wish to speak."

"Ah, have you finally noticed it then?" Legolas asked, "For one who cares so deeply for her, it has taken you an awful long while to notice her shift in disposition."

The trite tone of his voice, edged with disdain, made Boromir's temper flare, but he contained it.

"I have noticed Melody's shift in mood for some time. I had thought it best to wait for action until such time as she deemed it necessary to come to me with her burden. However, it has occurred to me that the source of her melancholy might be between the two of us."

Legolas shook his head, "I don't what you could possibly mean."

"Don't you?" Boromir said, staring at the elf with a face as hard as flint, "You must be aware that your actions since your return to us have been a cause for friction. The whole company knows of our rivaling interests. Have you thought through the consequences of your continued persistence in pursuing Melody's affection? Have you thought of what it might mean to her?"

"If this is a ploy to trick me into gracefully conceding defeat, Boromir, it won't work." Legolas said, his tone calm and business-like, "I have no intentions of giving up on Mel's heart so easily."

"You have her heart!" Boromir said, his voice rising in frustration, "It may not be in such a way as you would like, but you have it none the less. You are her most trusted friend, to part from you would destroy her. Is that not enough?"

"I fail to see how you can purport yourself to be an expert in the matter of Mel's heart." Legolas said, suddenly turning vicious, "Perhaps if you had loved her all along…"

That was when Boromir lost his temper. He whirled around and his fist connected squarely with Legolas' jaw. The elf stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock.

"I have always loved her!" Boromir shouted, "Through madness, shame, and utter despair, my love for her has endured!"

He took a fistful of Legolas' tunic and pulled him close so that they were face to face. He lowered his voice, but his anger still burned as hot as ever, "You can never love her as I do. Never!"

He pushed the elf away and took a moment to collect himself. It wouldn't do to draw a crowd. And besides, Melody would be very upset if she knew that they had been fighting.

Legolas reached up and touched his cheek where Boromir's blow had landed. His face had become an unreadable mask, an expression that his kind seemed to have spent millennium perfecting.

Finally, the elf spoke, his voice calm and measured, "I still love her, Boromir. That will not change."

Boromir sighed, "I know. I know that you love her."

Boromir took the pouch off his belt and carefully opened it, pulling out the plain box inside. He felt Legolas eyes carefully watching his every move. Slowly, he opened the box and showed Legolas the ring carefully placed inside. The elf's face did not change, but Boromir could see his eyes shift. It was a strange thing to watch an expressionless man experience such a range of emotions, confusion, realization, anger and so many others that Boromir could not begin to describe. After a few moments, Legolas met his eyes again.

"So," He said, "This is your intention?"

Boromir nodded, "It is."

"And it is your belief that she will consent?"

Legolas eyes were narrowed now, his stance defensive. He was prepared to argue, to bring to light all of the reasons why Boromir was unworthy of such an honor as Melody's hand, all of his faults and mistakes. But Boromir already knew all of these things. And he was as uncertain as anyone what Melody's answer would be. So he answered honestly.

"I do not know. I only know that she is everything to me, Legolas. Without her, I am nothing."

Legolas seemed to consider this very carefully. Finally, his stance relaxed.

"Very well." He said, "If it is your intention to ask for Mel's hand, then I will not keep you from it."

The elf held out his hand to Boromir.

"I do not wish to lose her friendship, Boromir," he said, "I will do whatever I can to maintain that bond with her. But should she accept your proposal, on my honor, I will no longer pursue any further affection from her. Do you agree?"

Boromir had always known that Melody would never allow her friendship with Legolas to be lost without a fight. If Legolas agreed to be her friend and nothing more, he trusted the elf to keep his word. He took Legolas' outstretched hand.

"I agree."

Legolas nodded. Boromir dropped his hand and returned his mother's ring to it's pouch. Then he turned to make his way back to the meeting tent.

"Boromir."

Legolas' voice made him pause.

"Our agreement, it goes either way. Should she refuse you, I am to be allowed my opportunity."

Boromir's heart leapt to his throat. Should she refuse him… The thought made his blood go cold. Should she refuse him, it mattered not what course Legolas took. Boromir's entire existence would be meaningless. Slowly, he turned his head over his shoulder and nodded. Then he quickly walked away, hoping to leave those thoughts behind him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The next day, Mel could tell that something was different. Nothing had changed physically. When the sun rose, the army set out across the black plains of the Morannon, perhaps a bit more solemnly than the days before, but they set out just the same. As had been the usual arrangement, Boromir and Legolas rode with her, one on either side of her. But there was a feeling in the air between them, as if some sort of truce had been called between them.

Their mysterious conversation last night had caused quite a restless night for Mel. She had seen the two of them leave the meeting tent together and neither of them had returned. The look on Boromir's face had troubled her so much that as soon as she had been able to pull away, she'd tried to find them. But they had wandered far beyond the inner circle of the camp, and Mel had been too afraid of getting turned around in the dark to pursue them any further. Sleep had not come easily for her that night.

But this morning, it seemed that something had been arranged between them. They didn't necessarily look pleased by whatever had transpired, but a certain sense of resolution had replaced the tension and Mel was relieved. The loss of the trees' voices at the edge of Ithilien made her edgy anyway, she didn't need the added stress of worrying about the two men in her life who just couldn't seem to get along anymore. Whatever agreement they'd come to, she hoped it was permanent.

While the silence that had replaced the trees' nervous whispers in her head was unnerving, it also opened up her mind to think more clearly than she had in the past several days. Her panic had turned to determination. She was almost certain now that her choice would come in front of the Black Gates. It was the only place that made sense. So many would perish before those gates, one more life, no matter how noble, would go almost unnoticed. So she had one more day before the choice was placed before her. And she was determined, no matter what, that she would find some way to get out of it. There had to be a way. She clung to that hope, because she simply could not face the thought of losing either one of them. It was the only thing that kept her sane.

The black rocks of the plains spread out to either side of them in all directions. By midday, Mel could hardly see even a hint of the tree line that they'd left behind. And before them, barely a smudge on the horizon, loomed the dark mountains that separated Mordor from the plains. The Morannon was the darkest, most forbidding place that Mel had ever seen. And added to it were the chills she kept getting from the Nazgul high overhead.

By the time they stopped to make camp, there was no sign of anything but the black rock in all directions. The monotonous landscape made Mel feel isolated and scared. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to Boromir, to feel him near her, to hear his heart beating in his chest and his voice whispering in her ear. But all day, Boromir had been distracted and distant. Though he stayed close to her side as always, his eyes told her that he was far away in his own thoughts. And he seemed nervous, something Mel had not expected, though she supposed he was only human. He was as prone to the effect of the Nazgul and this awful place as anyone else.

And though Legolas also had stayed close by, even smiling and offering conversation on occasion, he seemed to be keeping his distance from her as well. Gimli, from the back of Legolas' horse, had attempted to bridge the gaps of silence, but even he seemed to have run out of words. Mel was left feeling very much alone.

At dinner that evening Legolas didn't sit beside her. It was the first night since they'd left Minas Tirith that he had not flanked her right side, and it felt strange. Boromir sat as always on her left, but Legolas instead chose a seat near the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, across the tent from them. Mel glanced up often, wondering if she had done something wrong, if he was angry with her. But when he caught her eye, he smiled and raised his wine glass to her. So he wasn't angry, but Mel still didn't understand. What was happening?

She was so preoccupied, that when Boromir finally spoke to her, she jumped.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, her thoughts jumbled from being tugged at so suddenly.

"I asked if you would like to go for a walk with me this evening." He said again, his voice sounding strained and low.

Mel realized that they hadn't been able to spend any time together or really talk at all since leaving Minas Tirith. The choice had been weighing so heavily on her mind that she'd almost forgotten why the choice was so difficult in the first place. She loved Boromir. And she wanted nothing more than to spend as much time with him as possible.

"Absolutely," she said, "I would love that."

Boromir stood and helped her to her feet. As Boromir held the tent flap open for her to pass through, she glanced behind her and caught Legolas face. But he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Boromir with a look so intense she thought it might burn holes through him. It wasn't a look that she could easily attribute an emotion too, but Boromir seemed to interpret it perfectly. He nodded, then followed Mel out of the tent, letting the flap fall closed over Legolas' face.

He offered Mel his arm and together they strolled slowly through the camp, passing by tents and small fires. There was hardly any noise in the night. For a while, neither spoke. Mel took this time to simply revel in Boromir's company. She had not realized how intensely she'd missed this closeness. She'd cut herself off so completely, not even realizing she was doing it, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"I'm sorry." She said impulsively.

"Why?" Boromir asked, his voice soft and gentle, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"I've been so wrapped up in… in what I'm going through. I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend more time with you. I've missed you."

There was a pause while Boromir considered her words.

"Truthfully, I haven't made myself particularly available. So much has happened, so quickly, and my attention is so often demanded elsewhere, I fear that I have neglected you."

Mel thought back. She couldn't think of a single moment when Boromir had not been by her side. He seemed to have always been present, in the background maybe, but he was always there.

"I never felt neglected." She said softly.

They walked on a little farther. They were nearly to the edge of the camp now. Mel could hear the horses shifting restlessly in their makeshift lodgings. A stray thought suddenly popped into her head.

"Happy early birthday."

Boromir stopped and stared at her, his face a mixture of surprise and revelation. Mel realized that he had actually forgotten tomorrow was his birthday, the 25th of March. Truthfully, she had forgotten too until just this moment. She remembered the shock when he had revealed the information to her, that his birthday fell on the same day that the power of Mordor would fall.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything." She said, trying to fill the shocked silence that had fallen between them, "I haven't had a lot of time to think about a present."

Boromir continued to stare at her, but now he seemed lost in thought, searching for words. Then, he seemed to resolve himself. He leaned down and kissed her. It was different from any other kiss they'd shared. This was gentle, yet it felt slightly desperate, as if he were pleading with her, and yet savoring the moment as much as possible. Mel felt her heart stutter as she returned his kiss. She wanted to savor it too. It might be the last kiss they ever shared.

Finally, they parted and Boromir pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes were still closed as he spoke in a whisper.

"I don't need a gift from you." He said, "But there is something I would like to ask of you."

Mel waited. She wasn't sure what he would ask her and she was afraid to agree too quickly. If he asked her to turn back, she would have to refuse. She was pretty sure he wouldn't be so foolish, but she wasn't completely sure.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers.

"Melody," he said, "I love you, so very much. I never thought I could feel this much love for another. I never understood it, until we met."

He paused, and then he reached for something on his belt, a pouch. From it, he pulled a small plain box. Mel had never seen it before, but the way Boromir held it, delicately in his large hands, Mel could tell it was something very special. But nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

As Boromir opened the box, he said, "No matter how long our time might be, my only wish, is to spend the rest of my life with you. Melody, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife?"

For a split second, time seemed to stand still. Mel's mind raced. Boromir was asking her to marry him. He was holding the most beautiful sapphire ring that Mel had ever seen, and asking her to be his wife. And in this brief millisecond, she realized that there was nothing she wanted more.

"Yes." She said, trying to remember how to breathe, "Yes, Boromir, I will."

The look of joy on Boromir's face was beyond describing. It was as if a great black cloud had been lifted from him and his whole body was as bright as the sun. He gently pulled the ring out of it's box and slipped it on her finger. It fit perfectly. Then he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air, spinning her around and breaking into a deep, wonderful laugh of pure simple joy. Mel was laughing to, burying her face in his neck, just loving the feel of being with him, of knowing that for the rest of their lives, she was his, and he was hers. Finally, Boromir seemed to spin and laugh himself out. He set her down, but they still clung to each other, Mel not willing to be the first to let go.

"I love you." She murmured in his ear, "I love you so much."

"I love you, Melody." He replied, "You have made me the happiest man in all of Middle Earth this night. And I swear I will live the rest of my life to make you happy."

Finally, they pulled apart and shared a long, wonderful kiss, that Mel wished could last forever. She felt as light as air, as if she might just float away if Boromir were not clutching her, tethering her to the ground. But eventually, they did have to part and arm in arm, they began to walk back through the camp.

Mel glanced down at the ring on her finger again. It was really the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The sapphire in the center, surrounded by waves of silver and tiny diamonds…

"It was my mother's." Boromir said, the elation in his voice still obvious.

Mel started and then stared at him, "Really?"

Boromir nodded, "My father has kept it all these years."

The weight of his words took a moment to hit her. Boromir would have had to ask his father for the ring. Which meant Denethor knew his son's intentions, and he had given him the ring anyway. Mel didn't really know what to think of that. Denethor was not her biggest fan, he had made that perfectly clear. Was this some sort of ploy, a tactical move that she simply could not yet see the end of? Or could it be that Denethor's love for his son had simply trumped his dislike of her? Mel didn't know. And honestly, she didn't really care. Boromir loved her, and she was going to marry him, and nothing in all of Middle Earth could take that from her.

They reached the cluster of tents in the center of the camp, and Boromir walked her to her tent, a respectful distance from his own. Here Mel knew they had to part, but neither of them seemed eager for it. The tents around them were quiet, the fires burned down to embers. In the dim light, Boromir leaned down and kissed her, gently, softly, the most beautiful kiss of Mel's life. She wished it would never end, like most of this night. But of course it had to.

"Good night, my love." Boromir whispered, in a deep wonderful voice that sent shivers down her spine.

"Good night." Mel whispered back, feeling inadequate in his wake. But his smile, so genuine and perfect, made her feel that she couldn't have said anything better.

He kissed her again, quickly, as if he needed just that one last kiss to sustain him, then he turned and walked into the darkness. Mel pulled back the flap of her tent, but she watched him until she saw his barely illuminated outline disappear into his own tent. Mel tried to smile, but then realized that she never stopped smiling to begin with. It was as if her lips had been permanently glued turned up.

But just as she was about to let her tent flap drop, she heard a familiar voice softly call her name.

"Mel…"

It was like a damp, heavy blanket had been dropped onto her and her smile disappeared. Legolas stepped out of the darkness. Mel could tell from the look on his face that he already knew what had happened. But he didn't look angry, or even heartbroken. He simply looked resigned.

He took a step closer, but remained just out of reach. Mel stepped out of her tent and let the flap fall shut behind her. They stood and faced each other in the dim light, neither really sure what to say. Mel felt a flurry of emotions. At first, she was terrified. The thought of losing Legolas filled her with a horror that she couldn't quite describe. The fear segued into guilt. She hadn't expected this turn of events, but she still felt as if she should have warned him somehow, should have talked to him. But that guilt quickly gave way to a strange sort of anger. After all, she'd tried to tell him, tried to warn him that his feelings were misplaced. She'd clearly spelled it out for him. Why should she feel guilty for being in love with Boromir? But as usual, she couldn't stay angry at Legolas for more than a second, especially when she knew that the anger was irrational. So she was left feeling lost, not sure what to say or to do.

Legolas of course, was impossible to read. His expression was carefully neutral. After a moment, he spoke.

"So, you have accepted him then?"

The words, though they were spoken calmly, almost flippantly, immediately put Mel on the defensive.

"Yes." She said, holding her head high, refusing to show how scared she was.

Legolas nodded, "May I?"

He held out his hand, and at first Mel couldn't figure out what he meant. Then she realized and held out the hand with the sapphire ring. Legolas took her fingers in his own, turning the ring in all directions to examine it.

"It's lovely." He said finally, his voice soft and gentle. He didn't release her hand. Mel felt tears sting her eyes.

"I love him." She managed to choke out.

Legolas nodded and let go of her hand.

"I know." He said.

He turned and started to walk away. Mel felt an overwhelming panic feel her chest.

"Legolas, please!" she cried, not caring who heard her or how badly her voice cracked, "I can't lose you!"

Legolas stopped, frozen almost in mid step. Then he spun so quickly that Mel could barely follow him and before she could blink, she was wrapped in his arms, his fingers stroking her hair.

"You will never lose me, Mel." He whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, or where you go, or what you choose, you will always have me. Always."

Maybe it was foolish. Maybe she was kidding herself. But Mel believed him. She believed that he was her best friend again and that nothing would ever separate them. She believed him with everything in her being, because she needed to believe him. She needed to believe, just for a few minutes, that everything was going to be okay, that she would somehow make it through this nightmare, and everyone she loved would be safe.

So for just a few moments, she let Legolas hold her, and she believed.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The next day, Mel woke up and realized she no longer felt afraid. She was tired of being scared. And when she took away her fear, all she felt was a stubborn determination. This was the day, the day of the Ring's destruction, the day of the fall of Mordor, and the day she would have to make her choice. But she wasn't going to. She was going to find a way out of this. There had to be another way.

The last march to the Black Gate was grim. The army was silent as the walls loomed closer and closer. Boromir and Legolas rode by her side as they traversed the last few miles, one on her right and the other to her left. Mel took comfort in their presence. There was no tension now, no unspoken rivalry. There were only two men who loved her, and that she loved. She wanted wrap both of them in her arms, to hold them and let them know how much they meant to her, even though words would never truly express how she felt. She knew it wasn't possible now. They had to be strong, especially Boromir, whose men looked up to him and took courage from him.

They crested the last hill and Aragorn called a halt. The plain before them was silent, not even a breath of air disturbed the black dust. After waiting several minutes in the stillness, Aragorn turned and motioned for the lords to come forward. Mel went with them, her desire to keep close to Boromir and Legolas mingling with a morbid curiosity. No one questioned her presence. They descended the hill and Mel found herself riding beside Gandalf and Pippin. She suddenly had a thought, a small way she might be of some help. She leaned over and whispered.

"Pippin!"

The hobbit turned and looked at her, his face grim and determined under his Gondorian helmet.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered.

Gandalf was giving Mel a strange look, not quite disapproving, but not quite pleased either. Mel ignored him. Pippin didn't hesitate.

"Of course I trust you, Mel." he whispered back.

Mel had to suppress a grin. This was a serious.

"Alright then, listen to me." she said, "No matter what happens, no matter what you see, you have to believe me that everything is going to be okay. Understand? You have to stay quiet and believe that everything is going to be fine. Can you do that?"

Pippin looked puzzled and slightly concerned, but he nodded, "I believe you, Mel."

Mel nodded and straightened back up. Gandalf looked concerned too, but he didn't say anything.

They stopped within a few yards of the Gates and Aragorn called out.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"

A few seconds of silence, just long enough for Mel to wonder if something else had gone wrong, then there was a horrible screech and the massive black gates swung outward. Mel tensed and her horse sensed it, fidgeting under her. But the gate only opened wide enough to allow a single rider to pass through.

At first, it looked as if the horse and rider might be one being, but as they approached, easily and without any sign of haste, it became apparent that the they were separate, but the same, both of the same intense black that seemed to suck the light out of the air around them. Mel knew who it was, even before she could make out his features. She hadn't thought it would be possible, but he was even more horrible than he appeared in the movie. His black robes were tattered and fluttering around him, making his skeletal frame appear even more wraith-like. A black helmet, covered in spikes, concealed his face, except for that wretched, oozing mouth.

He sauntered to a halt a few paces from their group and, though his eyes were not visible, he seemed to survey them with cold calculation. Then that awful mouth spread out into a grotesque grin that Mel was sure was not remotely human, and when he spoke his eloquent words were distorted by the black slime that seeped out through his gums and teeth.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids you welcome."

He paused and looked over the group again, as if waiting for someone to act pleased by this announcement. Mel glanced around at the group and learned a new level of respect for Aragorn when she realized that he was actually managing to look completely unimpressed.

The Mouth appeared irritated at their lack of enthusiasm. His head twitched on his skinny neck like a bird.

"Is there any in this rout with the authority to treat with me?"

Aragorn actually looked bored! Mel gave him back any brownie points he had not previously earned in her head. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab Boromir's hand out of complete horror, but the look on Aragorn's face resolved her. If he could sit there and look bored, she could at least be still and not make a fool of herself.

Gandalf finally spoke.

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The wizard's voice was calm and authoritative, but the messenger of Sauron only grinned patronizingly with that strange exaggerated mouth.

"Old Greybeard." He said, his tone even more patronizing than his smile, "I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

The Mouth reached into the folds of his robes and Mel braced herself. She wished that there was some way for her to reach out to Pippin or give him some kind of signal, to let him know that this was the time to be brave, to trust her unwaveringly with the child-like faith that she loved so much about him. But it was too late. The Mouth of Sauron lifted Frodo's mithril vest into the air and Mel could feel the shock ripple through their group.

But instead of crying out, Pippin turned and stared at Mel. She tried to tell him with her eyes that she knew, that she had known all along that this would happen, and that everything was still alright, just like she'd said. Pippin held her gaze for a few moments, then hardened his face and nodded. Then he turned sharply front and stayed silent, his back rigid with resolve. Mel let out a breath. At least she had been able to offer some reassurance to someone.

The other men in the company were better able to hide their distress, though both Boromir and Legolas threw her a sidelong glance. She gave them both a tiny shake of her head and saw their faith restored. The whole company remained stubbornly and impassively silent.

Seeing that the mithril shirt had not incited the intended reaction, the Mouth's misshapen smile faltered slightly. Mel allowed herself a small bit of satisfaction. Attempting to recover, the Mouth tossed the shirt to Gandalf, who caught it easily, and continued on as best he could with the message he'd been told to deliver, still attempting to invoke horror in the hearts of his listeners.

"You should all know that the halfling suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain?"

He turned his large head back to Gandalf, who still sat straight and tall on the back of Shadowfax.

"And he did, Gandalf." The Mouth hissed, menacingly, "He did."

There was complete silence. Not a single member of the group even flinched. Mel felt her chest swell with pride for all of them. Slowly, Aragorn urged his mount forward, circling the Mouth of Sauron and considering him, still managing to look unimpressed, but maybe a little more irritated now.

The Mouth twitched his head in that strange bird-like fashion, following Aragorn's movements.

"And who is this? Isildur's heir?" The Mouth laughed cynically, "It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade."

Aragorn paused and seemed to consider this. Then in one smooth motion, he unsheathed his sword and relieved the Mouth of Sauron of his head. The ugly black thing rolled across the ground, barely distinguishable from the black rocks around it. The body soon followed it to the ground and the black horse he'd been mounted on reared up it's legs with a piercing scream and whirled back toward the Black Gates.

"I guess that concludes negotiations." Gimli muttered next to Mel. Mel allowed herself a smile.

Aragorn turned to face the lords, his face grim and determined, "I do not believe it. I will not!"

"Aragorn's right." Mel said, letting her voice ring out over the silent plain, "It's a lie. Frodo is alive!" She locked eyes with Pippin and smiled, "You'll just have to trust me."

"Lassie, I'd believe anyone over that ugly beast." Gimili said, his voice laced with disgust, "If you say it is false, that's good enough for me."

"And me." Boromir said, his voice grim, but his face determined.

"And me." Legolas echoed, smiling at her gently.

Gandalf pulled his horse up beside her and his eyes revealed hope and faith.

"You have not yet led us astray, Melody Calenhiril," he said, "I do not believe that you would give us false hope now."

The screeching of the Black Gates saved Mel from trying to find an appropriate response. Slowly, they swung wide and the armies of Mordor began to pour out.

"Fall back!" Aragorn cried, wheeling his horse, "Fall back!"

The group turned and raced back toward the hill, separating as they reached the army, each lord finding his men and working to pull them together. Boromir rode into the midst of the men of Minas Tirith, Mel following him.

"Stand steady men!" He said, his voice firm, but not unkind, "Steady your hearts!"

With only these few words from Boromir, the shuffling men went still and feel into neat formation. Mel smiled proudly. They were a credit to their country and their Captain. Boromir joined her at the front of the troops, his face calm, but grim as he looked out over the plain, quickly filling with the black hoards of Mordor. The army seemed to stretch on forever, a sea of never-ending orcs and trolls and Easterlings. Mel felt her heart seize with a stab of fear. Their army seemed like no more than a small band to her now. So many brave men were going to die today…

Boromir reached out and took her hand. She looked at him. His face was still calm, and he was smiling at her.

"I love you, Melody." He said, "No matter what happens, I love you."

Mel felt another stab of fear. It was time. She was now faced with the real possibility that she might lose Boromir. That his life, his messy, imperfect, beautiful life, might be snuffed out unless she could find a way to stop it. She squeezed his hand tightly.

"I love you too, Boromir." She said, "I have your back, you have mine. Okay?"

He nodded. She knew he didn't really understand, but it was the only way she knew how to tell him that she wasn't going to let him die. Together, they rode forward and joined the rest of the lords at the head of the army of the West. Legolas joined them, Gimli still riding on the back of his horse. Aragorn was before them, looking out over the still shifting and nervous army. He kicked his horse and rode before the soldiers.

"Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan!"

His eyes met Boromir's briefly and seemed to project his words straight toward him.

"My brothers!"

Boromir nodded to him and Mel saw something in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. A deep respect. Aragorn turned back to the soldiers.

"I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!"

He lifted his sword high. The lords unsheathed their swords, and Mel with them.

"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

There was a shout from the army, and Mel shouted with them, even her dark spirits lifted. Finally, Aragorn, the exiled Ranger from the North with no desire for power or influence or glory, had transformed into a king. She felt honored to have been able to witness his transformation.

Of course, in this solemn moment Gimli chose to make comment.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf."

Legolas grinned good-naturedly.

"What about side by side with a friend?"

Gimli paused and if Mel hadn't known any better, she would have sworn that his eyes got misty.

"Aye, I could do that." he said.

Mel smiled.

"Yeah," she said, making Legolas turn and stare at her, all traces of his smile gone, "Me too."

Legolas' voice was grim, but gentle when he spoke.

"I will not leave you, mellon."

She nodded, "I know."

She knew because she wouldn't let it happen. Legolas would live, just as Boromir would live. She would find a way.

Gimli squirmed on the back of Legolas' horse, then snorted, "Get me off of this beast. I will die with the solid ground under my feet, as a dwarf should!"

Legolas gave him his hand and helped him to the ground. The orcs had reached the army now, spreading out and enveloping them like a black sea. But the terror of the orcs was nothing compared to the terror growing in Mel's heart. When was her choice? How would she know? What…?

Aragorn turned and looked over them, his face serene.

"For Frodo."

Boromir placed his horn to his lips and blew one long, final blast. It was deep and powerful, and seemed to embody all of the loss and the grief and the promise of revenge for the wrongs done upon the people of Middle Earth. The tone echoed on the rocks of the Morannon, reverberating through the hearts of all those gathered there. For just a moment, it made even the massive force of Mordor pause.

Then they were charging and Mel didn't have time to consider anything anymore. They were riding, swords raised with battle cries, straight into the startled enemy, swords slashing, arrows flying, and it was everything Mel could do to keep her head. For a moment she was in a daze, her body doing all the work while her mind tried to process what was happening. There was no end. It was all twisted faces and evil snarls and black blood. They pushed further and further in, but she knew they were barely scratching the surface of what they were up against.

Then her mind slammed back into focus. Boromir, Legolas! She had to keep them safe, she had to keep them alive! She whirled in a panic, but they hadn't strayed too far. They seemed to be flanking her, Boromir whirling his sword on her left, Legolas firing his arrows with pinpoint accuracy on her right, and Gimli wielding his ax on the ground with deadly precision, keeping the enemy closest to Legolas from unhorsing him. Everything around them was chaos, but Mel was able to keep her focus now. She needed to stay within reach of Boromir and Legolas.

It was impossible to tell how long they fought. The horses all went down quickly, leaving them four of them fighting on the ground in a tight circle, watching each other's backs. Legolas' arrows had all been spent, reducing him to the use of his knives, though this didn't seem to hinder him much. Mel and Boromir once again found that rhythm that kept them moving together, and Legolas and Gimli easily fell into that rhythm with them, all four working like a well choreographed team. The bodies piled up around them, turning the ground into a grisly obstacle course. The system seemed to be working well.

And then the Nazgul came. Mel heard their terrible chilling cries long before she saw them. The long black serpents glided down from the sky and reached out with their claws, one of the beasts heading straight toward them.

"Boromir!" Mel screamed.

He looked up and saw it too. He reached for her, but Legolas was faster, wrapping his arms around her waist and hurling her wildly through the surge of orcs and men to escape the Nazgul.

But another sound rang through the air, a sharp, piercing cry, and a huge golden eagle slammed into the Nazgul's beast, ripping mercilessly at it with sharp talons. The two tumbled out of the sky and slammed into the surrounding rocks, just as the rest of the eagles arrived, ripping and tearing at the other Nazgul that still soared above.

Mel jumped to her feet, Legolas beside her.

"Boromir!" she screamed, desperate to be heard over the screaming and the fighting, "Where's Boromir?!"

She flung herself into the surging black throng of bodies, Legolas crying out after her.

"Mel, wait!"

But she couldn't wait. What if she lost him? What if she waited and the Valar took Boromir from her? The only thought that filled her mind was finding Boromir. She pushed through the orcs, slashing and stabbing recklessly, searching for any sign of him. She could hear Legolas and Gimli fighting behind her, Gimli keeping count of kills like it still mattered.

She finally spotted him, with a group of Gondorian soldiers fighting to take down a heavily armored troll. She felt every fiber of her being flood with relief. She gutted an orc, then turned to glance behind her. Legolas and Gimli stood back to back, cutting down orcs and Easterlings like straw dummies. Alive. They were both still alive.

Suddenly, the Nazgul all cried out together, a tremendous bone chilling screech that made every living thing on the plains below pause and look skyward. Then like one being, the remaining Nazgul turned and flew straight toward a burning mountain top glowing in the distance. Mount Doom. Mel had not even seen it before, too preoccupied with her own dilemma to recall that this battle was being fought, not just here, but within the borders of Mordor as well. She felt a sharp pang of grief for Frodo and Sam, struggling together in the burning heat of the mountain, knowing that they would never again be the same sweet little hobbits she had once known.

Then the battle resumed and Mel was thrust back into the present, fighting for her life. She tried to keep her eyes on both Boromir and Legolas, but it was difficult to do that and also fend off the orcs that threatened her on every side. She somehow found herself fighting within a small knot of men that she didn't know, some bearing the gold and green of Rohan, others the blue and silver of Gondor. They were as brave as any men that she'd ever known, but they didn't have that same coordination that she had experienced fighting with Boromir. One by one they fell around her, some silent, some screaming in agony. The screams echoed in her mind, but she pushed away her growing panic, and fought on, determined to see the end of this. And it was almost over, it had to be.

Then, everything stopped.

It was just like Pelennor Fields, when Legolas had kissed her. The world was put on pause, no sound, no movement, everything frozen in time. Except this time, Mel was not frozen. She spun in a circle, finally able to really look around. The Men of the West were still surrounded by hoards of orcs, and Easterlings, and mountain trolls armed to the teeth.

She looked to her left and saw Legolas, frozen in place, his knife half raised to deal a killing blow to a large Easterling. But behind him a small orc, hunched and twisted, raised a curved sword to plunge it into his back. Mel felt a sharp pang of panic and moved to run to him, but found that her feet would take her no more than a step before locking themselves to the ground. The panic began to escalate. Slowly, afraid of what she was about to see, she turned to her right. Boromir stood over the fallen troll, his sword raised to drive it into the beast's roaring mouth. But just beyond stood an Easterling, covered in strange black markings, an ugly curved bow pulled back with an arrow trained on Boromir.

Mel felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She wanted to throw up. Her head was spinning and she was having trouble breathing. A clap of thunder rolled through the still air and a dark voice boomed out of the sky, the voice of Mandos.

"_**Here lies your choice, Melody, now called Calenhiril, Daughter of Yavanna. A life for a life. Choose, and the debt between us will be satisfied."**_

It was like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. Mel's breath came in gasps and she sank to her knees in the broken rock beneath her. She wrapped her arms around her chest and tried to get a grip on what was happening. This was it. This was her choice, Legolas or Boromir. She could see no loop hole, no way out. She was going to have to choose.

"I can't." she gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks, sobs racking her body.

"I can't!" she screamed as loud as she could, hoping someone might hear her, might do something, "I can't do this! Please, I can't do this!"

But there was no answer. Nothing changed. She wasn't going to be able to beg her way out of this. Yavanna couldn't help her. No one could save her from this.

She screamed wordlessly and sobbed, choking a few times as she tried to catch her breath. It was a long time before she finally felt able to sit up in the dirt and open her eyes.

Lying in front of her, glinting brightly among the dark rocks and blood, was one of Legolas' knives. She knew it by the curve of the blade and the vines and leaves engraved in gold on the dark hilt. She glanced again at the elf, one knife ready to slice open the throat of that Easterling man, his other hand empty. Mel wondered how and when he had lost his knife. She picked it up and weighed it in her hand. She suddenly recalled a night not too long ago, at the beacon of Calenhad, when she had attempted to give herself a knife throwing lesson. She had forgotten about that night until now, but the clarity of the memory, so far removed from where she was now, worked as an anchor that she used to regain control of her logic and contemplate the terrible thing that was being asked of her. She turned the blade over in her hands absently as her mind worked creating erratic connections.

A life for a life, a debt to be repaid, a debt she had created by saving the life of the man she loved, Boromir's life. Now his life was in her hands again, and not just his life, but the life of Legolas, her best friend, her confidant, the only man she trusted as much as Boromir. There was nothing she wouldn't do to save them. Nothing…

Her mind suddenly turned the problem over and she began to see things in a different light. If a life was all that was needed to satisfy the debt, than it stood to reason that any life of comparable value would do. That was most likely why they had chosen Legolas in the first place, because his life was significant in the development of Middle Earth's history, as much as Boromir's would be if he lived. But if any life would do…

Mel held up the knife and let the light glint on the blade.

_Melody, now called Calenhiril, Daughter of Yavanna__…_

After all, what life held more value than the life of one whom the Valar called kin?

"Me…" she whispered into the silence.

There was no response, but Mel would not be ignored this time. She got to her feet, sword in one hand, knife in the other and cried out to the empty sky.

"I choose myself! Take me!"

There was a silence, just long enough to make Mel wonder if her choice would be refused. Then Mandos' voice rumbled through the air.

"_**So be it."**_

With a clap of thunder, the world was in motion again. Mel moved without thinking, her actions out of her control. She turned and flung Legolas' knife as hard as she could in the direction of the hunchbacked orc. It spun through the air and buried itself neatly in the back of his skull, just in time for Legolas to turn and watch the ugly little thing crumple to the ground.

But Mel didn't see any of that because she was running, as fast as her legs would move, leaping and pushing her way toward Boromir. The ground rumbled beneath her feet and she heard startled cries all around her, but she ignored it, even dropping her sword to gain just a few more seconds of speed. Boromir drove his blade through the mouth of the fallen troll and the Easterling released his arrow, just as Mel lunged at Boromir with a desperate cry.

She felt the impact first, as if someone had shoved her, and she stumbled, dazed. And then there was a pain unlike any she had ever felt, blooming in her chest. She reached up frantically, desperate to make the pain stop, and her hands found the black shaft of the arrow buried in her ribcage. She lifted her hand, shaking. It was bright, glistening red.

Her ears started ringing. The ground rumbled again, this time violently enough to make her stumble and fall. Someone caught her, the jarring impact sending a piercing pain through her whole body and she bit back a scream. She heard voices through the white noise in her ears, startled, frightened voices. She recognized one as Boromir's voice. He was holding her in his lap, his dirty, bloody face desperate and his eyes filled with fear, something Mel didn't think she'd ever seen before. He was talking to her, but she couldn't seem to focus. There was so much pain and so much blood and every time she took a breath she felt like she was drowning. But she tried harder because it was Boromir and she loved him and wanted to hear his voice.

"Melody? Melody, I have you, I have you now, everything will be alright, you'll be alright."

Boromir's voice was as frightened and desperate as his eyes, and his words didn't make sense. She wasn't alright. She wasn't going to be alright. She'd made a deal…

She finally made the connection between what was happening to her and what she had chosen. She was dying. She tried to take a breath, but that feeling of drowning caught her off guard and she coughed. Spikes of pain shot through her and something warm and thick filled her mouth. She swallowed painfully and managed to choke out a single word.

"Le… Legolas?"

Boromir nodded, "Yes, yes he's fine, we are all fine Melody, we're safe. Just lie still now. We're going to fix this." Tears welled up in his eyes, tears of frustration, "I'm going to fix this."

Mel sighed as relief flooded her body, dulling the pain for a moment.

"Safe…" she whispered, reaching up a hand and touching Boromir's face, "You're finally safe."

He grabbed her hand with one of his.

"Melody, why did you do that?" he said, his voice angry though his tears, "Why?"

Mel could feel her head getting light, but she tried to think of a way to answer him through the dimness that was threatening to overtake her. It was important that he understood.

"I had to make a choice." She managed to choke out, "I… I couldn't… choose between you."

Another cough spasmed through her. The warm liquid trickled out of the corner of her mouth, but she didn't have the strength to wipe it away. She barely had the strength to keep drawing breath. She was so tired. Boromir reached down and brushed it away, his hand lingering on her cheek. His face was streaked with tears.

"Melody," he murmured, his voice ragged, "Melody, please, I love you. Please…"

She smiled and squeezed his hand with the very last of her strength.

"I love you, Boromir. Tell Legolas, tell him…"

Everything was fading now, the edges of her vision dimming, the sounds getting further away. She could still hear Boromir's voice, crying, shouting, begging, but it was so distant, hard to distinguish the words. And besides, he was safe. They were both safe. The Valar had held up their end of the deal. And she was so tired.

Mel sighed, closed her eyes, and let them take her.

* * *

Boromir's roar echoed over the rocks of the Morannon, turning the head of every man that still stood. He clutched the body of the woman he loved tightly to his chest, burying his face in the tangle of her dark hair and sobbing as he had never done before, for he had never felt such grief as this, as if his soul had been torn from his body, leaving him a shell of agony.

Legolas stood over them both, his own grief plain on his face. Tears fell from his eyes unbidden and he paid them no heed. They were insignificant compared to the loss he felt. He had never experienced this, and it didn't matter. Distantly, he realized that he finally understood what it was that made the Elven kind so desperate to leave the shores of this land. This loss, this emptiness that he felt, was a pain that would follow him into eternity. Not even the beauty of the Undying Lands, of Valinor itself, would rid him of this sorrow.

Out of the clear sky, there was a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning struck on the edge of the battleground. A woman appeared. She stepped out of the smoldering circle of black stone unscathed, and began to walk with a gliding step through the aftermath of the Morannon battle. None saw her pass. All those not relevant to the task at hand had been locked in time, unaware that all around them the world turned on. The two for whom she had come were so immersed in grief that no force in this world or any other could move them.

The woman's dress rustled lightly as she walked, but in truth it was not a dress. Her tall form was clothed in wraps of leafy vines, the same vibrant green as her sharp eyes, set into a pale and flawless face, framed with dark brown curls. This was a mask of beauty, for any that looked upon her true face would be consumed by the power of it.

Legolas was the first to see her. She glided smoothly over the battlefield and he could feel the power pulsing off of her in waves. He recognized her instantly, though he knew not how. She approached them and he fell to one knee before her, speaking his native tongue.

"My lady, you honor us with you presence here."

His voice was wooden, with no trace of the reverence she was accustomed to when greeted by one of Illuvatar's Firstborn. She turned her eyes on him and even though his face was downcast, he could feel the power of that gaze. He lowered his head even farther.

"You must pardon me, my lady. My grief has overwhelmed me."

"You would banter with this creature?"

Boromir's dark growl gained the woman's swift attention. The eyes of the Son of Gondor held no fear, no respect, only anger, grief, betrayal. He still held close the body of Melody Calenhiril.

"This thing, this woman, who has taken away one so dear to us?" Boromir snarled, "What more could the Valar possibly require of us?" He snapped, "Have you come that you might be assured that your work is complete? Behold with your own eyes the results of your work? Well, here it is!"

He held out Melody's limp body so that the woman could see it well.

"Here is the body of the one I love, the one you have STOLEN from me!"

Had he not been consumed by his rage and his grief, he might have seen the woman flinch at his words. But he only clutched the girl close to his chest once more, pressing his cheek to her forehead, tears flowing freely once more. All of his strength sapped, he now muttered quietly.

"You can cause me no more pain than this. I have nothing left. Now go. Leave me in peace."

But the woman remained. Her perfect features did not crease in annoyance or anger. Instead, she seemed to soften until she looked almost human. She knelt to the ground before the two men, the vines around her rustling softly. Then finally, in a deep, powerful voice, Yavanna spoke.

"I know your grief, Son of Gondor. But it is not I who took her from you."

She reached out and gently brushed the dead girl's cheek.

"You are not the only one who suffers this loss." She murmured.

She looked into Boromir's angry eyes, "She chose this. She chose it because she could not bear the loss of you."

She met Legolas' eyes as well.

"Either of you. A choice was placed before her. Two paths diverging in a distant wood…"

She looked down into Mel's face and smiled, "But our dear Melody, she forged her own way, as she had always done. When faced with an impossible choice, between the two whom she loved most, she instead took the suffering upon herself."

She looked up into the eyes of the two grieving men and her voice held the power of the Valar behind it.

"Such sacrifice does not go unnoticed."

Both Legolas and Boromir felt a jolt in their chests. It was the spark of hope.

Yavanna stood, now returned to her natural state, her face smooth and regal, removed from the workings of the world and it's emotions.

"I have come, not to bring more grief, but to offer a compromise. Melody Calenhiril gave her life that you both might live. We propose that you do the same for her."

Yavanna held up her hand before either man could speak, "We do not ask for a physical death, but rather the end of the life you now know and a return to the life that should have been."

She turned to Legolas.

"For you, Prince of the Green Wood, this means to live out a life in which you never knew Melody Calenhiril, to fulfill the destiny that was set out for you before she ever entered your life. It is a long, full life of honor and unbreakable friendships, in which you shape the course of Middle Earth's history. But you will have no memory of Melody Calenhiril or your time together."

Legolas could feel the weight of her words sink into his being. To live a life in which he never knew Mel, never saw her smile, or heard her laugh, never held her when she was frightened or when she cried, it was a life that he couldn't imagine. At the same time he knew that such a life existed. It was the life that Mel had read about in her books, the life he had been meant to live. But what sort of life could it be, if he never knew the love he felt for her?

Yavanna now turned to Boromir.

"Your choice, Son of Gondor, is of a different sort. For your destiny was that your life should be ended on the banks of the Anduin. However, the choice of Melody Calenhiril was made that both of you might live. And we keep our word. Therefore you must choose to live that life, to complete the destiny that you were meant for and to suffer the consequences of it. Then you will be returned to a different life, one far from your home and family, to live out the rest of your days."

For Boromir, this choice was simple. It was a choice that he had already made days ago in Minas Tirith. He would do anything if it would keep Melody safe, no matter the sacrifice. Even if it meant letting his own life go. Even if it meant he would never see her again.

"If we do this, she will live?" Boromir said, his voice tentative.

Yavanna nodded, "The Valar have agreed. If you are both in accord, the life debt will be fulfilled. Melody Calenhiril will be spared."

The two men looked at each other. Boromir's decision was already made. It was left only to Legolas. The elf smiled sadly, knowing that his choice was clear.

"I could not live in a world that did not contain her light." he said.

He brushed a strand of hair tenderly from Mel's cheek, then leaned in and whispered in her ear, a phrase in elvish that Boromir could not quite hear. Then he kissed her forehead and sat back.

"I am in accord." He said.

Boromir nodded, "As am I."

He reached down and placed his own kiss on Melody's forehead.

"I love you, Melody." He whispered.

Then Yavanna raised her hands and spoke in a voice that rippled with unimaginable power, **"As we are all of one accord, so let it be!"**

Her hands snapped together and the world went dark.


	31. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Mel shot upright with a gasp. She felt as if her lungs were inflating for the very first time. She coughed and choked and tried to force down more air in big gulps. Hands reached out to steady her, rubbing her back soothingly. A voice spoke out of the darkness.

"It's alright, Melody, it's going to be alright. Take deep breaths."

A glass of water was pressed into her hand and she drank it thirstily. Her throat felt like sandpaper. The voice in the dark was familiar to her, but at first she couldn't place it. Her whole mind was clouded. It even took her a moment to realize that Melody was her name. But from that knowledge came the realization that only one person called her by that name.

"Boromir?" she rasped, her throat still rough.

She heard a scratching sound as a match was lit and put to the wick of a lamp. Boromir's face emerged from the darkness, lined with concern as he brushed back a few strands of her hair.

"Are you alright? How do you feel?"

She thought about that for a second. It seemed to be a question that required some thought. How did she feel? In comparison to what exactly? She tried to pull together some recollection of how she should be feeling. She tried to pull up the last memory…

Pain. So much pain. And blood. And she couldn't breathe! She was drowning! Everything flooded back to her in a rush that threatened to shatter her mind. She was dying… No… She was dead!

"I'm dead! Oh god, I'm dead!" she shrieked, flailing wildly, feeling the beginnings of hysterical sobs starting to bubble up inside of her. She didn't want to be dead! She wanted to live and marry Boromir and watch Legolas chase her grandchildren when she was too old to do it. She didn't want to die!

Boromir caught her arms and pulled her to him, holding her to his chest tightly so that she could no longer flail.

"Melody, Melody you are not dead. Listen to me, you are not dead!"

"But…" Her voice was shaky with sobs and fear, "But it was the only way… I had to… You and Legolas…"

She trailed off, then she pulled away from his grasp, her eyes full of suspicion.

"Where is Legolas?" she demanded, "If I'm not dead, I want to see him."

Boromir's eyes grew sad and Mel felt on the verge of another bout of hysterical sobbing.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Melody." He said and Mel felt something inside of her break.

"Oh god, not that!" she wailed, "It's not fair, it was supposed to be me, I chose me!"

The look on Boromir's face quickly changed from sad to panicked.

"No, no, Melody, he's fine! He's fine, I swear to you on all our lives, he's fine! We are all fine!"

"Then why can't I see him?" she wailed, not sure what to believe. Was she dead? Was this all a trick? What was going on?

"You can't see him, because he does not know that you exist!" Boromir shouted, cutting through her hysteria.

Her voice caught in her throat. He didn't know she existed? How was that possible? He was her best friend…

Mel took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.

"Boromir," she said, in as steady a voice as she could muster, "Tell me what happened."

So he did. He told her everything, from the moment she had… Well, she supposed she really had died, though she didn't remember it. She remembered only closing her eyes and then waking up here. He told her about Yavanna, about the choice she had given them, to give up their lives to save hers.

"I did not know what awaited me until I woke here." He said, taking Mel's hand and pressing it to his cheek, closing his eyes, "Melody, I did not think that I would ever see you again." He whispered.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Mel didn't know what to say. It was taking time for her to process the information, to understand what had happened. She would never see Legolas again. He did not even know her. The loss of her best friend was bitter sweet. She would mourn his loss, but at the same time, she knew that he would live a wonderful, full life. She just couldn't be a part of it.

Boromir still held her hand to his cheek, as if he were trying to memorize the sensation.

"I could not have lived without you." he said suddenly, making Mel jump, "I knew it, the moment I felt the life leave your body." He raised his eyes to meet hers, "When I made my choice, it was no great sacrifice. If you had…"

He choked on his words, then he gripped her hand tightly, his eyes suddenly angry.

"Melody, you must never do that again. Do you understand? Never!"

Mel shook her head, trying to pull her hand from his iron grip, "I didn't have a choice…"

"But you knew!" He said, sounding not just angry, but hurt as well, "You knew that you would have to make a choice, that you would have to choose between us, and you said nothing! We all knew that you were troubled, why did you not tell us?"

"What was I supposed to say?" she shouted back at him, defensive now, "One of us is gonna die, let's draw straws?"

Boromir looked like he might shout back at her. But suddenly all the anger seemed to drain out of him. He sighed and pressed her hand to his cheek again.

"Promise me, Melody," He murmured, "Promise me that you will never keep anything like that from me again. No matter what the circumstances."

Mel felt her own anger disappear. She sighed.

"Okay," she said, "I promise."

There was another pause.

"It is a strange thing," Boromir said, his eyes distant, "I remember everything, all in a jumble now. The life we lived together, and the life I was meant to live had we never met…"

He trailed off, his face a mask of stone.

"I remember how I died."

Mel swallowed, her throat still painfully dry. The life she had tried to save him from, he'd been forced to live it anyway.

"I'm sorry." She said, softly.

He looked back at her, a gentle smile on his face.

"It was a sacrifice worth making." He said.

He released her hand and reached to pour her another glass of water. That was when she saw the glint of metal on his hand. She jerked back, startled. It was a ring. Third finger, left hand, a solid silver band. She looked down at her own hands. There, nestled on her own left ring finger, was the blue sapphire set in waves of silver. She went to touch it with her other hand saw the glint of gold on her right hand. The Yavannacor. She still had it.

Boromir reached out and took her left hand in his, their rings touching. She looked up and he smiled.

"I'm afraid we've missed our own wedding." He said, gently.

For the first time, Mel gave logical thought to the situation she had woken into. Boromir sat on the side of her bed, a bed, she now noticed, that was easily big enough for two. He was dressed plainly in a white cotton shirt and breeches, she in a soft white gown. The small bedroom was poorly lit, making it difficult to tell much about it.

"Boromir?" Mel finally asked, "Where are we?"

He his smile widened and his eyes were bright.

"In our house." He took her hand. "Come and see."

He took her hand and led her out of the dimly lit room through a tiny doorway, into another small room that looked like a sitting area, then through another door into a tiny kitchen. Then, with a bright smile of anticipation, Boromir opened one last door, and Mel stepped outside.

She gasped. And then she began to laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was so perfect and wonderful that the pure delight of it made the laughter bubble up inside of her uncontrollably.

The Valar had given Mel an orchard.

She ran through the dew covered grass in her bare feet and flung herself against the fence that lined the rows and rows of apple trees, stretching out toward the gradually brightening horizon. She could hear the chorus of their voices, chattering amongst themselves, waiting eagerly for the dawn of the new day. Suddenly, Boromir grabbed her from behind, hoisted her into his arms, and spun her around, laughing. Mel squealed and laughed, letting her head fall back. She was so giddily happy.

They finally stopped spinning, and Boromir leaned down and kissed her. Mel wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, loving the feel and taste of him, reveling in the knowledge that he was hers, forever and always, and nothing would ever part them again.

The sun crested the horizon, sending rays of golden light flooding through the branches of the orchard, spilling out onto a new day. Mel heard a melodious chorus of voices, the sound of the trees greeting the sun. Mel thought it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard, like the sound of angels singing.

Then, another voice, barely a whisper, cut through the sound of the trees singing in her head.

"_**A second chance, Melody Calenhiril**__**…" **_Yavanna whispered, _**"Use it wisely**__**…"**_

Mel touched the Yavannacor nervously. Yavanna's words echoed ominously in her head. But then she looked at Boromir's smiling face and she pushed them aside. Another day… She would think about it another day.

Today, Boromir, Son of Gondor, carried his wife over the threshold of their home, and their new life began.

**THE END**

**(...)**

**Or is it?**

* * *

A/N: I cannot tell you guys how hard it was for me to write these last couple of chapters! I was in tears at one point. I really hope you enjoyed them! And YES, I have plans to write ONE MORE INSTALLMENT of Boromir and Melody's story! There are so many loose ends to tie up that really, I couldn't just leave it ;) However, I will not be continuing the story right now. I want to allow myself time to work through the plot properly. Stay tuned, either here or on my Facebook page (AzaldiaTook there as well) there will be more to follow! In the meantime, it has been an HONOR to write for all of you! I cannot adequately express the love that I feel for you guys. I only hope that I have entertained you, made you laugh, cry, and moved you all. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for reading! I have the best readers! :D


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